Of Paintbrushes and the Perfect Pants
by SchizophrenticDolphin
Summary: Ginny Weasley is a creative and successful young artist with a loving family, the prospect of a perfect marrige, and her own 'happily ever after.' But unfortunately, only fairy tales end like that. What happens when a certain wealthy young man comes to h
1. A Rather Unfortunate Beginning

Ginny Weasley, the calm, collected one blasted her apartment door open and stormed inside. Ginny Weasley, the loving sister, shattered a picture of her brother, Harry, and Hermione as she raced down her small hallway and into her smaller studio. Ginny Weasley, the _ex_-girlfriend, felt like Avra Kedavra-ing her "fiancé" into who knows when. But 'Ginevra Wellsey', the artist, sat at her stool and brought out a clean canvas. She tried to clear her mind as she sloshed paint around her new piece of art and on her dress robes. She tried to forget about the happenings of earlier that evening as she moved a brush over the paint, hardly knowing what she was doing. She tried to think of nothing, tried to focus on her work, but thoughts kept drifting one by one through her head...

_God this looks awful...... Stupid paint, stupid brush, stupid canvas.... Stupid Ron.... The nerve... Dumping me in public... In front of my brother... My brother supporting him.. Like he always does... And blasted Hermione standing there and looking so... knowledgeable... Where'd the black paint get to... "We weren't meant for each other," oh don't give me that crap... next time I see him I swear I'll curse him to next Tuesday... Harry bloody Potter... I never want to hear his name again... _

Ginny leaned back and looked at her project. It was a mess of paint, splattered all over the canvas. The blues and blacks running together, dark purple and red dripped on to the floor. Ginny threw her brush into a bucket and it was magically cleaned in seconds. She turned on her stool and gazed out the doorway. She didn't know what to do with herself. It felt as if hundreds of emotions were bottled inside her and begging to escape. She dragged herself away from the studio, the studio she spent most of her time. When she wasn't with Harry, that is. It looked like she would be having a lot of free time nowadays...

Ginny wandered to the kitchen and automatically reached for a mug. She lived on coffee. It was what finished her last three commissions. Ginny filled her mug and sipped on it, studying her reflection in the window that was over her sink.

"One and a half years," she muttered. to herself. "One and a half bloody years. All I wanted to do was get married!" Ginny began pacing her kitchen, growing louder and louder. "Settle down! Spend eternity with the love of my life! But no... I mean, its not as if I was fantasizing about having a home with him! He had the guts to propose! We obviously wanted the same thing!" Ginny set her mug down harder than she meant to, sloshing hot coffee down her hand. "I guess the question is," she began, addressing no one in particular," why did he give up? Everything was going great! And then... he dumped me. In public. In front of my brother! And his girlfriend! And what did they do? The sided with him! The prats sided with the bloody (bad word)!! Well, Ronald. What about 'blood is thicker than water?' Well I guess not. I guess not..." Ginny swallowed. Uninvited tears started swimming in her eyes. Her head was pounding and her whole body was exhausted. "I need to get some sleep," she muttered and slowly slumped off to bed.

Her tiny bed sat opposite her door, covers strewn across the mattress, slowly sinking onto the floor. A small window over the bed looked out on one of the quiet streets of Maidstone, dust clinging to the old glass. Ginny sighed, walking around the random sketches and bits of clothing. Upon reaching her bed, she collapsed. The old wood screeched its protests. A picture stared at her from the small bedside table. A tall man with untidy black hair was laughing, embracing a young woman with bright red hair. In her hand was a delicate pink rose. Ginny hastily grabbed the picture and threw it across the room, delighting at the sound of shattering glass when it hit the wall.

Slowly, she found her tight grip on the sheets loosening and her mind becoming peacefully blank.

-------

Morning came all too quickly. Light streamed in from the window, a natural alarm for Ginny. Yawning widely, she slowly pulled herself out of bed and threw off her dress robe which was covered in hardening black, red, and blue paints. In its place, she put on a plain blue sweater and a pair of ageing jeans. Groggily, she made her way to the kitchen.

It was a mess, like the rest of her apartment, but that did not bother Ginny. It never had. She was notoriously disorganized. Her wand lay forgotten on the stacks of yellowing letters and bills. Ginny grabbed it and flicking it, muttered "Inceptium." The white plastic coffee pot whirred into life.

Ginny didn't see the point to mornings. The day should begin around noon and end a few hours after midnight. Not that it made a difference to Ginny what hour the businessmen left their homes to go sit in the cold, impersonal buildings that were their workplace. She was the artist; everyone else's schedule revolved around hers. She would bend over backwards to help no one.

She waved her wand over to the coffee machine and it magically filled a mug with steaming drink. She sipped on her beverage and moved throughout her apartment, careful not to trip on any number of items strewn about the floor. Today, Thursday, was going to be a long day; Ginny could tell by the feeling. One piece of work she had to finish for a client, and then the day was hers. Hers to mope, sulk, pout, glower, brood, and wallow in her misery. Whooo.....

It was late afternoon when Ginny finished her painting. A study in flowers for a client who was in the business. In Ginny's opinion, she had never seen a more hideous picture in all her life, but the customer seemed delighted, and he was the one with the money. An orange vase sitting on a table full of hideous golden carnations that emitted a buzzing sound when they felt as though their water wasn't fresh enough. Ginny was relieved to get them out of the house.

Returning from the customer's home, Ginny popped into her studio before running some last minute errands. As she grabbed her bag, her eyes fell on the painting she did last night before going to bed. It was a smattering of color, confusion, depression. Chaos. Ginny liked it. She quickly put a drying spell on it (just in case), snatched it up, and apparated to the back room of **Enchanting Art Work: A Gallery of Today's Most Popular and Talented Wizards and Witches **

"Um... Gin? This thing got a title? Or a price?" Claudia hung the picture up on "The Wall of Genevra Wellsey" and had stepped back to look at it. Claudia worked the Gallery and was one of the only friends Ginny had. The acclaimed artist now sat back in a chair and made a face of mock thoughtfulness. "I've got it," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "I'll call it, 'My fiancé broke up with me last night and I hate his guts and never want to see him again.' Sell it for whatever price you want to. I don't care."

"Aww. I'm sorry," Claudia said over her shoulder as she continued to look at the painting.

"Yeah, I don't want to talk about it," Ginny said as Claudia shrugged. Her great compassion was one of the reasons Ginny loved her.

"A year and a half! He proposed! Do you think I was setting myself up? I mean, there was still a possibility of a breaking up, but I... I had thought we were together forever." Ginny stood. Feeling her emotions so strongly, made her uneasy. She brushed her fingers through her wild, messy hair. Had she forgotten to brush it today? She hoped nobody looking into the windows thought she was too weird.

Claudia turned around. "You wanna to talk about somethin?"

"Nah," Ginny said, swinging her homemade bag over her shoulder. "I'm heading out. Let me know if anyone buys that new painting. I want to meet them and find out why."

Ginny opened the front door, bells jingling cheerily and closed. She stepped out to Diagon Alley, into the hustle and bustle of the streets. She felt protected amidst all of the crowds. Not personal, not invading, not nosey. Everybody had a place to go, d passed **Weasely's Wizarding Wheezes.** She glanced in and saw George (or maybe it was Fred, since they've grown older it was even harder to tell them apart) standing by a small child holding a box of something Ginny was very sure the child's mother would not want him to have. Her brother looked up from his potential costumer and saw her. He beamed and waved extravagantly. 

_And now I have no choice but to visit,_ she thought with a wry grin. Ginny tossed her hair and walked up to her brother

The small shop was full with students staring, wide-eyed at the different pieces of merchandise while their parents looked at the store apprehensively. One of the twins stood behind a purple and gold cash register, selling something in a silver can to a boy who looked around ten. After the boy had left, Ginny walked up to the register.

"Gin!" the red haired twin said loudly, going around the counter to catch her in a tight hug.

"Hello Fred," she said when he released her.

The man smile widened. "I'm George," he corrected her, "How have things been? Still living in that dump of an apartment?"

"It isn't a dump... well... It isn't when it is clean...."

Laughing, George led her to the back room.

"Tea?"

Ginny nodded. George swished his thick oak wand at the cabinets on the opposide wall.

"So, how have you been?" He asked, while the tea made itself.

"Okay..." replied Ginny slowly, hoping he would not turn the conversation towards Har--

"Have you and mum got the wedding all planned out?"

Ginny felt her face fall. He hadn't heard. She had expected Ron to tell the entire family.

"No..." she responded, running a hand through her hair, "There isn't going to be a wedding." She tried to keep her voice light, but even she could hear the bitterness.

"Oh," George said quietly, suddenly busying himself with setting out tables at the small table in the corner of the room. "Sugar?"

Ginny shifted in the awkward silence, trying to think of a conversation topic.

"I see that you and Fred are doing well," she said as George handed her the tea.

"Yeah, sometimes it's a bugger working with your brother, but we're doing well."

More silence.

"So, have you invented anything new," Ginny asked as she sipped her tea.

"We've been experimenting with Toxic Tea..."

Ginny spit out her tea on the ground. She knew her brother would try to make her ingest some sort of joke while she was here. George laughed.

"C'mon, be a sport, Gin. It's not really toxic; only make you feel ill for a bit." Ginny smirked as she wiped her mouth.

"Yeah, just like those first tests with the skiving snackboxes. No, I haven't forgotten that and I'd rather not risk some bizarre side effect while tasting poisonous tea."

"But we've already tested it and it didn't kill Ron or Harry!"

As soon as he said this, George bit his lip. Ginny grinned wryly. "If only." She stood and grabbed her bag. Before George could say anything she continued, "I'm sorry but I have to go. So many things to do, you know. See you around. Tell Fred I send my love!" She exited out the back door and closed it slowly. She hated it when people acted sorry. The look on George's face when he said that about Harry and Ron, it was as if he was afraid that the name of her ex-fiancé would send his baby sister into tears. Ginny walked briskly down the street and snorted at her brother's foolishness. Ginny Weasley, crying over a boy. Ginny didn't cry. Ever. Not even when the love of her life ripped her heart out.


	2. Opportunity Comes Knocking

Ginny apparated home and turned up the wireless. Lost for anything interesting to do, she wandered throughout the house. Picking up books and then tossing them down, sketching some and then erasing it, looking at pictures and then tossing them out windows. Nothing could appease her boredom.

"I have got to do something," she exclaimed as she paced her small living/dining room. Suddenly green flames erupted in the fireplace making Ginny jump and knock over a chair. A pair of familiar glasses appeared amidst the flames and Ginny groaned. She quickly ducked behind a lounge chair and hid from the head in her fireplace.

_I'm not home, I'm not home.... Just go away..._

"Ginny?"

_I'm not home... leave me alone..._

"C'mon Ginny, I now you're home."

_No you don't._

"Ginny, get out here. We're going to talk this out."

_You can't make me._

"Are you hiding behind the chair?pause Just come here. pause Ginny! Stop acting so immature! Suck it up and come talk to me!"

Ginny stood and glared at the green head of her ex-fiancé in her fireplace.

"What more do you want with me?" She asked him, anger pulsing through her. "You've already ripped out my heart. Have you come back for my lungs? Or how bout my kidneys? I've got two of those."

"Ginny, you don't understand-"

"I don't care!" She shouted, moving toward Harry. "All I know is that you broke my heart, Harry Potter! And I don't want anything to do with you."

"Stop acting like an adolescent!" 

"Don't talk to me about maturity, Mr. I'm-afraid-of-commitment! Tell me, have you been planning to break up with me since school, or just since we've been engaged!"

"Ginny! Calm down! This is not the time to get angry!"

"This is the perfect time to get angry! Out of the clear blue, my fiancé dumped me and doesn't even have the guts to say why!"

"I have a side to this story, too you know!"

"I don't care about your side! Just tell me why we aren't getting married now and we were 24 hours ago!"

"I just don't think we are right for each other!"

"Let me guess. The woman right for you is about 5-8 with long blonde hair and huge-"

"Ginny! I don't care about looks!"

"Just tell me. Who is she?"

Harry fell silent. Ginny watched him struggle and made an impatient click with her tongue.

"Marietta Edgecombe. From work," he mumbled.

"Well," Ginny replied through clenched teeth, "have you been seeing each other long, or waited until you were girlfriend-free so it would be more convienient for you!"

"Ginny, you don't un-"

"I know! I don't understand! And right now, I couldn't care less! As far as I'm concerned, you've been cheating on me ever since you laid eyes on her!"

"Gin-"

"Shut up! I hope you and your co-worker have a lovely future together. But I have some very important things to do. Have a nice life."

Ginny grabbed her wand and doused the fire before Harry could reply. All that was left were a pile of smoldering embers.

Ginny stood there for some time, staring at the black bits of wood. The shock of what Harry had said hit her hard. So he had been cheating on her? For how long? What did this Edgecomb have that she, Ginny, lacked? Marietta Edgecombe... The name sounded horribly familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it but she didn't care. Her fist, clenched around her wand, was trembling slightly with suppressed rage. How she despised him. And he had expected her to act perfectly fine with this information. Of course. Ginny wouldn't be hurt. Not at all. No, because the world centered around Harry and if Harry thought Ginny i should not /i be upset, she i would not /i be. The idiot.

Ginny stomped back through the kitchen and into her studio. She did not really feel like painting, but this was the one place where nothing reminded her in any way of Harry. This was her sanctuary from the real world. A quiet retreat from life. A sheltered oasis of peace surrounded by calming white walls. Except when she was in a bad mood. Then it was more like a small island in a violent hurricane of emotion and paint.

This happened to be one of those times.

Throwing her wand on the ground in the corner, Ginny grabbed one of the blank canvasses and pulled her tubes of oil paint from its drawer. Squeezing paint onto the wooden pallet, she muttered, "Black, yes, lots of that. Red, why not? Pink? No! White? I'll pass."

Grabbing one of the brushes, she once again began the stress relieving process.

Until, just as the setting sun was bathing her studio in a soft pink light, when someone knocked on the door.

With a strangled frustrated cry, Ginny threw down her brushes and stomped off to the door. She flung it open and stood face to face (to be more precise, it was rather face to shoulder. Ginny hardly grew an inch since she was a teenager) with a tall, blonde man. Ginny blinked into the setting sun and concentrated on this man's face. 

"....Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy was standing at her door, looking as debonair and deceitful as he had since she first laid eyes on him.

"Well spotted, Weasley. I was looking for someone but I must have the wrong address seeing how she's a wealthy artist and you're a poor weasel."

"Oh lovely, you've kept your charm." Ginny shifted her weight. Having a Malfoy on her doorstep was not helping her mood. "Who're you looking for?"

"Genevra Wellsey, but I doubt you've heard of her. Only upper-class wizards have much knowledge of the up and coming artists..."

Ginny snorted. "C'mon in."

Malfoy hesitated. "You mean she does live here? With you?"

"Contrary to popular belief," Ginny called over her shoulder as she began down the hallway, "artist don't make as much as you'd think." She whispered a quick cleaning spell and her living room appeared to be neat and tidy. "Come along," she called after the blonde as she led him to her studio. "Have a seat, she'll be right with you," Ginny said with mock courtesy

Draco lowered himself on to a stool and glanced around the studio. Ginny stepped out of the room and closed the door. She didn't know what she was doing. Should she just leave him there? Should she tell him Genevra was not in? Maybe she could transfigure her appearance.... From inside the studio she heard an impatient foot tapping the ground.

_Just do it._ She told herself and reopened the door.

"Well, here I am. What's it that you want?"

The look on Malfoy's face was priceless.

"But-... I thought-... You said-.... What kind of prank is this?"

Ginny sighed. "It's not a prank, it's a penname. Most artists have them, you know."

Malfoy's face turned pink. "But... But you're Weasley's little sister, not some high-society artist!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Did you come here to harass me or get a painting?"

Malfoy's eyes wondered throughout the room and rested on that day's piece. "Got a little angry, eh?"

Ginny took the painting and hid it out of sight. "It's what art is, you know. Expression of self."

"Yes, well I've come to you so you can express myself. I want a portrait done to hang in my _mansion._ It's a Malfoy tradition."

Ginny snorted. "You want a gigantic painting of yourself to hang in your house so you can be like your father and grandfather and so on? Thank you, I'll pass."

Malfoy stood, "I do not want to be like my father!"

"Ooh, testy are we? I'm sorry, but I've sworn never to make business with someone who tried to kill me!"

"What?" Malfoy looked confused.

"Yeah that's right. In my first year your father slipped my Voldemort's diary and I opened the Chamber of Secrets. Since then I don't hold a very high respect for the Malfoys."

The youngest Malfoy was silent.

"Oh? Your father never told you. Well it's true and I wouldn't paint you a portrait if my life depended upon it." Ginny tossed her hair haughtily and glared at Malfoy. It was true; she'd rather do about anything before she did a favor for a Malfoy. Even if she was getting paid.

Malfoy sighed and reached into his pocket. He withdrew a heavy moneypurse and tossed it on a stool. Ginny eyed it. I held a very hefty sum.

"How about that?"

Ginny shrugged. She planned to play it cool, see how much she could milk out of him. "It pays a debt..."

"It's only a deposit. I want this to be the greatest painting of all time, and my money will make sure of that." Malfoy was smirking. Ginny scowled and looked at the purse again. The tiniest glint of gold was peeking through.

"My poverty, but not my will, consents." She grabbed the purse and glared.

"I pay thy poverty, and not thy will," the sly blonde replied and walked out the door.

"How will you contact me? By one that I'll procure to come to thee, I suppose."

Malfoy didn't answer, but continued to walk through her apartment and to the door.

"Oi, Malfoy!" She called after him as she hurried to catch him before he left. "Should I send my nurse to drag an answer out of you or will you tell me straight out?"

He turned and smirked. "I'll give you the information tomorrow. I want this done before my 25th birthday."

Ginny lingered by the door. "But if thou mean'st not well,   
I do beseech thee, Malfoy..."

"I know, I know, and parting is such sweet sorrow. And call me Draco." Did she detect a grin?

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Well then do feel free to call me Miss Wellsey. Farewell. God knows when we shall meet again." With that, she slammed the door.

She turned around and slowly made toward her studio. Was she flirting with a Malfoy? Ginny grinned; oh her brother would have something to say about that. Good. Let him say it. She was feeling wildly reckless.

"Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd!"

The rest of the evening, and well into the night for that matter, passed by uneventfully. She ate a small dinner of chicken soup (from the can) and soda, painted a small, unimportant still life, and went to bed, dreading tomorrow's news from Malfoy.

----------------------


	3. The Untitled Chapter

The next morning, Ginny was not woken by the gentle rays of sun that she was used to, but instead by a sharp peck on her window. Groggily, she sat up and opened the pane. A large black owl walked through the opening with a letter. Ginny grabbed the letter and opened it while the owl looked accusingly at her, as though expecting a treat.

The letter was written in beautiful swirling cursive, shining in fine black ink. Ginny gently stroked the owl absentmindedly as she read, ignorant of the owl's attempts to bite her hand.

_Miss 'Wellsey,'_

_I'll expect to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron by three this afternoon. We will work out the details of the actual painting upon your arrival. After that, if you wish, we may continue onto my Manor so you might be able to have a look at the place and get an idea of the setting. Remember. Three o'clock. I will not tolerate your being late._

At the end of the letter were the elaborate initials 'D.M'.

"Can you believe him?" Ginny muttered. The black owl looked up with bored but intelligent eyes. "'I will not tolerate your being late,' since when is he in the positions to be commanding me? I'm the artist. I make my own work schedule." Her eyes were drawn to the bag of coins on the bedside table, sitting where a certain picture once stood. The black velvet bag seemed to mock her words.

"Oh, shut up."

The owl looked up once more, as its attention had wandered back to trying to bite her hand.

"You too. Get out of here."

The owl stood and stared at her.

"What do you want? Leave!"

The black owl did not move.

"Oh, fine," Ginny said exasperatedly, muttering curses while she pulled out a paper and quill. Quickly, she wrote that she would be there and tied it to the bird's leg.

"There! Happy? Now leave!" The owl, having got the response, went to the window and took flight, its ebony feathers shimmering slightly in the sun.

"Stupid bird," Ginny muttered, making her way into the kitchen.

8:34. Far too early for anyone to be awake, in Ginny's opinion. She made a cup of coffee and wandered to her studio. She walked past the still life she started the day before and pulled out her 'Angry' picture. It didn't seem to be too angry, in fact, at first look it would seem to be just an abstract. With dark, brooding colors sloshed on a canvas in a violent manner. Ginny set it back down; maybe she was painting too many angry things lately. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny threw on a green t-shirt and jeans hastily before making her way to London. She hurried past a mirror in the hallway. Her reflection caught her eye and she slowed down. The same freckled face, the same brown eyes, the same messy red hair. Ginny frowned. Maybe she should do something with her hair once in a while. Like brush it. She sighed and ran back to her room. She started digging through the piles of stuff and found one under a collection of photographs that had inspired her at one point in time. She wrestled the tangles out and forced it into a messy bun . As she checked the mirror again, she made a mental note on the wonders of good hair care and to try to brush her hair more often. She smoothed her long red waves, and the quickly apparated to The Leaky Cauldron.

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded, wizards and witches of all shapes and sizes were seated at the inn's scattered wooden tables. A man wearing a dirty brown robe was wiping one of the tables nearest Ginny.

"Um, excuse me," she started, hesitantly, "Have you see a man about... this tall," she made a gesture to some height above her, "erm, blonde hair, very arrogant--"

"Ah..." the man replied with a frown, "he is in there." He pointed to one of the tables near the back end of the inn, almost hidden by the staircase. And, as the man had said, Draco sat there, leaning back in his chair, a bored look on his face. Ginny muttered her thanks and made her way through the sea of tables and people to the back wall of the room.

Upon taking her seat, Draco said with a slight sneer, "You are early, I am surprised."

"I'm not that early," Ginny snapped back. She did not care about being rude. She was tired and the caffeine in her morning coffee had long since worn off.

"What do you want to drink?" Draco asked, motioning for a server to come.

"Coffee. With cream and sugar."

After ordering, Draco turned back to Ginny and was silent, as though expecting her to say something.

"What?" Ginny asked bluntly. "You're the one who dragged me here."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "I had thought we'd meet here to discuss the portrait." Ginny suppressed a snort as the employee served them their drinks. Honestly, who did he think he was? The Minister? Ginny hadn't heard anyone nearly so pompous since Percy.

"Well, what about it?" Ginny sipped her coffee and tried to appear relaxed; it was hard to do sitting at table with one of the wealthiest wizards in the country, let alone an arrogant butthead.

"As you probably have guessed, I want the portrait setting to be in my mansion. I want it to be non-magical; that is, I don't want it to be moving, and I want it done on the largest canvas there is."

"Well, it's all about you, isn't it," Ginny muttered under her breath as she raised her cup once more.

"And considering how often we'll be working on this, you'll apparate to my house at about... eight AM."

Ginny choked on her coffee. "Excuse me? 'We'll' be working? It's not exactly hard work sitting on your bum modeling! And another thing, I'm not waking up that early to come and look at you all day. I am the artist, you work around me. If you want somebody to come at eight, fine, but it won't be me. Genevra Wellsey thinks that she can make it around... noon. And that's being generous."

"I don't think you understand, _Miss Wellsey,_ but I need this portrait done by my birthday."

"And when's that, tomorrow? Look pal, I'm an artist and if I don't get it done, then I don't get it done. I could slop some paint on a canvas and say it's a portrait, but if you want a job well done and attention to detail, I am not going to rush my work and I am not going to wake up before ten. That is how Genevra Wellsey does things, take it or leave it."

Draco looked infuriated and Ginny was sure he didn't deal with contradiction very often.

"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I tried to contact a classy and businesslike artist," he said through clenched teeth.

Ginny leaned back and put her arms behind her head in an overly relaxed manner.

"Just because someone's got a fancy name and talent doesn't mean anything."

Draco glared at her with cold gray eyes. Ginny raised an eyebrow, challenging him to speak. He, as he always did in school, took it.

"Ten o'clock AM. No later. You will then stay until I find it fit to dismiss you."

Ginny stared at him incredulously. He could not get it through his thick head. _She_ was the artist and _she_ would work on her own time. 'Dismiss' her?! As if she was a mere house elf in his mansion. She would not stand for that.

"I will arrive and leave when I wish!" she said more loudly than she intended. A few people at the neighboring tables looked at her strangely.

"Keep your voice down," Draco instructed mildly, as though he had just made a comment on the weather. "You will work when _I_ wish. I am the one paying you a great deal of money therefore, I will be making the rules."

Ginny was too angry to speak.

"Good. You agree. I will see you at my mansion tomorrow morning at ten. If you do not know where that is, I suggest you find out. Good afternoon, Miss Wellsey." With that, he left the inn.

"Stupid, arrogant, ," Ginny muttered. Streams of curses poured from her mouth.

"Miss..." The server was standing over her. "Here is your receipt." Ginny grabbed it from his hand, threw some coins on the table, and left the inn.

Curses and oaths poured out of Ginny's mouth as she stomped around Diagon Alley causing several shocked looks from her fellow wizards and mothers to pull their young away, telling them that those were not clever words and never wanted to hear them say those kinds of things. Seeking some place of refuge to relax and forget all about Draco or painting or life. She needed to sink into some story of someone else's life and not emerge for a long time.

She stepped into Flourish & Blotts and felt a little more peaceful. It was hard to be angry while amongst the tall shelves of books and the friendly smell. As Ginny wondered around, she realized she hadn't set foot in this store since, at least before her seventh year. This store reminded her of Hogwarts, of better days when life consisted of school and friends; when hard work was a potions essay or avoiding a certain someone because seeing them made you blush furiously. Ginny ground her teeth as she looked over the many selections of reading material.

A bright orange book caught her eye and she curiously picked it up. The cover read **Artists of Our Time.** Ginny flipped through the front pages and found the table of contents. Finding what she wanted, she flipped to page fifty-three and saw a large picture of a painting she had done a few months ago. The next page had large black letters that spelled out her pseudonym. Ginny found a large chair to sit in and read about her self.

_Not much is known about Genevra Wellsey. There have been many a wildfire rumors pertaining to her residence, age, and even if she uses a pen name to through publicists off. By researching the time she first released artwork and examining the art itself, experts say that Wellsey is approximately 19-58 years old and born in the month of February. _Ginny bit her tongue in order to keep from laughing aloud. 'wildfire rumors'? February? Honestly, who comes up with this? The painting they showed was not of Ginny's favorites. It was actually a picture of some old bottles she found in a trash pile one day. The italics underneath the painting read:

_This painting (published in March) suggests several personality traits of Wellsey that may not be found in other works. The dark background suggests a sense of anger or depression. The bottles however, add a touch of whimsy and giddiness. This painting was most likely painted over a period of time in which Wellsey experienced many emotions. _Ginny shut the book. She had painted that because the bottles intrigued her. It had taken her a few hours.

She left the bookstore and ambled down the streets and wondered where to go. She knew that there was nothing at home left for her and nothing in the city interested her. Maybe she should take up knitting....

I hope you all enjoyed that chapter! I would like to take the time now to thank all my wonderful reviewers! I am so glad you all seem to like it so much!! More chapters coming soon! -SD


	4. One Point for Ginny

Ginny went back to her apartment early, instead of staying around Diagon Alley to look around. She was tired of being around people. She needed some alone time.

Upon walking into her apartment, she started the fire and collapsed onto one of the few soft chairs she owned. She sighed heavily. This had not been her type of day. Neither had yesterday, for that matter. Ginny brought her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. She did not even feel like painting another 'angry painting' at the moment. She just felt like waking up to find out that the past few days had been a dream; That Harry still was going to marry her; that Draco had never contacted her; that she was not going to need to wake up early the next morning.

Ginny sighed again. She was getting nothing done by just sitting there. She might as well just get to bed early.

Sighing, she went to her room and sat on her bed. She didn't feel remotely sleepy, maybe a little exhausted, but not sleepy. She had been a total zombie for that last two days and she didn't want to admit why. Ginny lay down and stared at the ceiling, ignoring the sounds of the muggle street. She glanced sideways to her bedside clock and read the time. 5:44. Ginny sighed and turned over, trying not to think about how pathetic it was that the only thing she could think to do was sleep. About how miserable she was. About how she needs a boyfriend to occupy her time so she doesn't discover what a hopeless person she was. Ginny rolled out of her bed and stood up straighter. She didn't have to go to bed at six o'clock just because she was bored. She'll stay up however late she'll want! Ginny marched to her kitchen and made herself some snack to eat. Her mouth full, Ginny began to talk to herself.

"I don't need any guy to keep me busy! I've got hobbies! I've got friends! And I am not going to wake up any earlier that I want to! I am an independent woman and I can do whatever I want! So there," she added childishly and wondered what to do. She could apparate to just about any wizarding community in the world, and she was just going to sit at home trying to fall asleep? Not any more.

"Let's see, Ireland, Scotland, America, Australia, Hogsmeade, London...." Ginny thought about her choices.

She quickly changed into something more suitable and hurriedly threw up her hair.

But, standing in the middle of her kitchen, she lowered her wand. After all, where would she go? Ginny made her way to the stack of papers on the counter and pulled out an aging magazine. The cover had been torn off sometime along its lifetime and the pages were torn and wrinkled. Opening it, Ginny made her way to the living room.

As she neared the end of the magazine, she almost laughed aloud at herself. Her she was, ready to go out and have a great time in some huge city, and instead stayed in her small apartment, reading a magazine from several months (years maybe?) ago. She really did need a hobby.

Ginny closed the magazine and thought. She had time, why not pick something now? She listed off as many hobbies as she could and counted them on her fingers. "Knitting. No, too impatient to do that... Fishing? Ick, i wouldn't want to cut open dead fish for fun... Bird-watching?" Ginny glanced out her window and saw a few treetops. She watched them a while and then turned back to her fire that was still burning in the grate. "OK, done. Dancing, maybe?" Ginny snorted. She couldn't see her clumsy self whirling around a ballroom. "What about writing? Yeah, I got ideas the world would want to know about. She summoned a quill and some parchment and poised her quill, ready to write any brilliant ideas that might come to her. When nothing came to her, Ginny started talking to herself again. "Well... what's an easy subject to write about? I like poetry.. Or, stories! There's an easy one. Mmm..."

Ginny brainstormed, wrote, scribbled, and doodled until nine o'clock (what she thought was a respectable bedtime) and put her materials away. As she changed into some pajamas, she thought about her new pastime. Writing, like painting, made her forget about what she was experiencing and dive into what she was doing. The time also passed surprisingly quickly. She flopped into her bed and pulled up the covers, a feeling of dread knowing what she was getting herself into at ten o'clock, tomorrow morning.

------------------------

"Miss Wellsey..."

Ginny turned over, pulling the covers over her head.

"Erm, Miss Wellsey..."

"A few more minutes," Ginny muttered groggily. It was too early. She should still be sleeping

Ginny slowly started waking up. She nearly jumped out of bed when she saw what was staring at her. A small house elf stood with a letter in hand, looking at Ginny through bright blue eyes.

"Miss Wellsey," it started in its small voice. "A letter to you from the master."

Ginny apprehensively snatched the letter from the elf's hand. She usually had no problem with house elves, but this one was unsettling. Its blue eyes looked at her as though she was the most interesting person on the planet.

"Leave."

The house elf apperated with a crack

Ginny opened the envelope and read the small card it contained.

_You're late. _

Ginny ripped it in two. Bloody Malfoy and his stupid money. D him, and his filthy portrait. She wished she never took the job. She stood up and stretched, glancing on the ripped parchment on her floor. So what if she was a little late, she worked on her own schedule and she was going to take her own sweet time getting there.

She packed up her materials and glanced in a mirror before apparating to the Malfoy mansion. She wore an old t-shirt already stained with paint and some jeans, also stained with paint. She decided on brushing her hair today and putting in a thick band to hold it back. Finding it all acceptable, Ginny apparated away.

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Draco was pacing his study. Late. She was late. Really late. He had sent that letter practically an hour ago and his house-elf said she was still in bed. Sick. How could anyone sleep so late? His doorbell rang. "About time," he snarled and ordered his elf to answer it.

-----------------------------------------

Ginny was ushered into the 'library.' A huge room full of books and books; stacked to the ceiling where only tall ladders could retrieve them. A sharp, cold voice cut into Ginny's thoughts.

"What have you been doing?"

Ginny turned to face Draco; his anger radiated off of his and quashed the good feeling Ginny had earlier that morning.

"I had to pack, it takes a while," she answered looking him over.

"Since we've wasted the whole morning," Draco said coldly, acting as though he had not heard her comment, "We had better get started."

Ginny said nothing but glared at the man before her.

"This is the grand library and where I would prefer the painting done." He pulled out his wand and gave a small flick toward the opposite wall. Huge black velvet curtains opened revealing a huge window which reached to greet the high arched ceiling. "I would think that there would be significant light in this room. I want it to be from the right side of the portrait. As for where in the library, I want it over here--"

"Stop!" Ginny said loudly. Her voice echoed in the expansive space. "I am the artist and will place you where I please. You have the right to select the room you wish to be painted in but any further commands will be mine."

"I am paying you a great sum of money. It would do you well not to forget that."

"I don't care if you are paying me the entirety of your fortune! I still claim my rights as an artist!" Ginny retorted. This was outrageous. If she had any common sense, she would leave this instant. But her mind mocked her. It rested on the sack of gold on her bedside table.

It was Draco's turn to be silent.

"Now," Ginny said, lowering her voice as she regained her self-control, "_I_ am going to have a look around the room and _I_ am going to pick the place for you to stand."

"Fine," Draco spat. Ginny smiled slightly as she turned away. _One point for Ginny..._

* * *

Rather pointless note from the author: 

This chapter is a bit shorter than the last one… Sorry…. Thanks to me lovely reviewers! I really appreciate it! It is your reviews that keep me writing!! okay… I'll stop….

In the next chapter: More Draco/Ginny verbal combat! Ginny starts to paint! Possibility of some background on Draco….?


	5. Preparations

Ginny tapped her finger to her chin in thought. The light was fine, but he was too technical about it, viewing it as a problem to overcome, not part of the process. For a while, Ginny walked around the room, pausing her and there and sometimes passing by an impatient Draco who was tapping her toe. Finally she stood by the window, looking over the room. "Mmhmm..." she said slowly and nodded her head. 

"Well then you've decided," Draco said edgily.

"Yes," Ginny said slowly, "and it will all depend on what you wear."

Silence. Ginny looked at Draco; Draco looked at Ginny.

"What?"

"It's all in your wardrobe. See, if you would be in this brown chair, you couldn't wear brown or neutral colors which is I expect is all you have. And over here by this shelf, wearing something dark would make you look like a skeleton, except paler. So of course I'll have to see your closet."

It took Draco a few moments to realize Ginny's last comment.

"As seeing it's my portrait I'd thought be able to decide what I would be wearing," he said through clenched teeth.

"Wrong," Ginny exclaimed, as she rounded on him. "This is not your portrait! It may be of you, but this is my piece of art! It might hang in your library for years and years until we both wither away and die and on my tombstone I'll have it inscribed to say 'Genevra Wellsey owned every piece of art she ever created even if they were bought by stinking, filthy ferrets,' just to make my point."

It enraged Ginny to have shouted her guts out at the 'stinking, filthy ferret' and to have him reply in a sneer.

"I didn't realize you had such strong feelings for me," Draco smirked as he walked closer to the red-head.

"Nothing personal, Mr. Malfoy. Just a rule of thumb never to call artwork yours unless you made it with your bare hands. Now, will you show me to your wardrobe or shall I find it myself?" Draco stood for a while, mere feet form Ginny and just looked her over. His eyes gave Ginny chills, and she shouted at herself to say 'it's because they give me the creeps' but she had a hard time believing it.

"Follow me," he said and exited the room.

Ginny scowled and followed Draco through a large pair of oak doors partially hidden among the bookshelves. They led to a long hallway with smooth stone floors and tall green walls. Elaborate iron torches hung on the wall just above eye-level. Draco was silent. As was Ginny. This was insane. Why was she doing anything for this, this, _Malfoy_? Even hearing the word in her head brought a chilling air to her thoughts. She didn't desperately need the money, so what made her accept?

"Miss Wellsey," Draco was saying impatiently, holding a door open for her, waiting.

Ginny kept silent and walked through the door, but was unable to suppress an audible gasp. The room was stunning. She stood on a floor of smooth granite, polished and gleaming in the sun which streamed in from a large paned window. In front of that window sat two soft burgundy chairs around a small iron table. A couch of a matching color was placed in front of a magnificent fireplace, framed by huge slabs of white marble, carved into swirls and elegant curves. Walls of a subtle gray stretched to an arched ceiling from which hung a huge chandelier, made of the same heavy iron which made up the table.

"Welcome to my room," Draco said.

"You live--" Ginny began, her voice shaking slightly with sheer amazement, but she stopped herself. Yes, it was one of the most beautiful rooms she had ever found herself in, but she was not about to inflate Malfoy's ego any larger than it already was. "I believe we were looking for your closet," She replied coldly.

"We're coming to it," he responded and moved toward to large doors. He swung them open and Ginny was astonished, not only at the mass of clothes, but how a male can have such a large wardrobe when her closet consisted of robes thrown on the floor. She walked into the closest; it was almost as big as her entire bedroom. In it hung black robes. Lots of them. Black shirts, black shoes, black socks. 

"Honestly Malfoy, is everything you own black? It wouldn't kill you to have some color every once in a while."

"Maybe it would, but I've never risked it."

Ginny rolled her eyes and pushed aside a row of black robes to find a row of dress robes, mostly black, but every here and there she'd catch a grey. 

"Robes, robes, robes.... I'm not feeling it. They're so... common. Haven't you anything other than robes," she muttered to herself and moved to the next part of his closet.

"Here we are," she said and examined a rack of black pants. "Malfoy, they all look exactly the same. How am I supposed to paint a portrait when everything is going to be black! Every pair of pants you own can't be black..."

Draco smirked," Oh really. Well, you won't find any colour in my closet, that's for sure. So if you're looking for green or silver or white, its not there."

Ginny stopped rummaging through the clothing and crossed her arms. In all the years she known Malfoy, she knew he was an untrustworthy, snobbish, rich little prick, but never a liar.

"Not even grey," she asked, although she knew the answer. Draco shook his head. Ginny picked up a pair of pants.

"Well," she said, taking her wand from her pocket and twirling it in her fingers, "if we can't find any pants, we'll just have to make them..."

Draco looked at her before he realized what she was going to do. "What do you think you're doing?! Stop that!"

Too late. With a small shimmer, the pants had turned from black to faint purple, a very significant change. The both stood in silence for a moment, examining the pants. Ginny with slight pleasure, Draco with disgust.

"Those are hideous. I'm throwing them out," Draco said as he moved to grab the pants.

"No!" Ginny clutched them to her chest. "These are the perfect pants! They'll work wonderfully!"

"They're purple."

"Yes! Don't you see? They're the perfect pants! They add a touch of color to the painting, and the rest is black. Contrast! And I don't care what you say, you're wearing them." Ginny began to walk out of the closet, but Draco stood in the entrance, arm spread, barring the exit. Ginny kept right on walking until they stood toe to toe. She looked him straight in the eye and he looked straight back.

"Move."

"No."

Ginny shifted her weight. He was being stubborn, but he would give in, he would have to, because Ginny sure wasn't going to budge.

"You're going to move, you're going to wear these pants, and you're going to cooperate."

"I will not be caught dead in anything that is purple, mark my words."

"Then you won't get a portrait done by me."

"So be it."

Ginny sighed; she was growing impatient with his antics. "Delays have dangerous ends..."

Draco smirked. "Danger adds interest to life."

"Stop being stubborn!"

"I 'll not budge an inch," he replied.

Ginny glared, now he was turning her own game against her. "I'm glad you've read Taming of the Shrew, perhaps you can learn something from it, but it's either you wear these pants, or I leave now, and ne'er return."

"You wouldn't leave," he said in his cool, calm voice that infuriated Ginny.

"And why wouldn't I?! You've done nothing but harass me, bribe me, and contradict me since I arrived. I have half a mind to throw your stupid money back in your face! Either agree, compromise, or let me go."

Draco thought for a moment. "Not purple."

Ginny bit the inside of her lip, but purple was so perfect...

"Grey. Nothing else."

"You have a deal." Draco stepped aside and Ginny walked out of the closet. Her heart was beating rather quickly and she felt flushed; she hadn't been so close to Draco... and she wouldn't have been able to stare into his eyes any longer... _Knock it of, Ginny, he's a pompous and you can't stand him...._ Ginny rubbed her forehead... maybe she was coming down with something...

Shaking her head slightly, Ginny continued talking, "Well, now that we have what you will wear, erm--" she raked her mind for what to do next, "what about we go back to the library and figure out where this painting will be...?" She desperately hoped her voice sounded less shaky than she felt.

Draco said nothing but gave a slight nod, an annoying smirk on his face, and disappeared back through the doors to the hallway. Ginny followed.  
--------------  
For some time, Ginny just wandered through the spacious library, jotting down a mental note in her head every now and then, but mostly just enjoying the beauty of the room. The large window displayed a stunning view of a courtyard, in which dark fountains spewed shimmering droplets of water high into the air and stones made a path through the dense green trees. The library itself was remarkably organized, with sections dedicated to every topic imaginable from _Cryptic Codes: A Guide to uncovering Early Medieval Symbols_ to _You Think You Know All There Is to Know About the Wizarding Business World?_. Among the many rows of books, however, there was a little section that was different. On the same wall as the entrance door, these books were almost hidden in a corner. Ginny, intrigued by their difference, picked one up. In had a very old cover, peeling golden letters once spelled out a now illegible title while the pages were torn and brown with age. Inside, instead of rows of printed words, were lines of hand-written calligraphy so elaborate, Ginny could not decipher it.

Smiling slightly, Ginny gingerly placed the book back on its shelf and took a few steps back, looking at the area as a whole. All the books had the same old aura hanging about them. _Perfect,_ Ginny mused.

"Okay, so bend your head back more, no not like that! Umm... cross your arms. No never-mind don't do that. How about we change the position all together...."

Draco scowled at Ginny as she tried to pick out a pose for the portrait. Nothing she tried seemed to fit his character, and his character wasn't very willing to cooperate.  
"How about... putting your arm behind your head, and then sticking your hip out... Yeah like that." Ginny snickered. She was just having fun now. "Okay, so now bend over backwards and touch your toes." Draco looked at her.

"Either get serious, or get out of my house. I'm not paying you to amuse yourself with me." Ginny laughed some more.

"I am serious, _seriously._"

Ginny looked over the room and she saw a black lounge chair that she liked very much. She waved her wand and moved it over to their corner, adjusting it manually to make it fit perfectly.

"Now," she ordered, "grab a book and sit down, I think I've got it..."

Draco took a book off the shelf and growled, "We've been doing this for over an hour, what is it that you're looking for?"

"That one pose that just screams, 'Malfoy.' So sit down, look arrogant and try to be a butthead."

Malfoy sneered at her comment and she replied, "Very good start. Just, hold the book down more, not that far... Tilt your head, look more relaxed. Now look over this way, but don't move your head.... Perfect."

Ginny brought her camera out of her bag and snapped several pictures from different angles. 

"I thought you were an artist, not a photographer," Draco mumbled, not moving from his position.

"Though this be madness, yet there is method in't," Ginny quoted back and took a last picture. "Alright," she said, putting her camera back in its place, "remember this exact position, and then we'll come back to it tomorrow."

Draco put his book down. "What? We went through hours of this stuff and you aren't even going to start painting?"

"It's too late to get started now, it'll be much easier to begin fresh tomorrow I'll just leave my things here, and be back tomorrow. Good day," Ginny said and apparated away, leaving a very annoyed Draco scowling on the chair.

From the author:

REVIEWER OF THE 5 CHAPTERS AWARD!!!!

The first 4-chapterly award goes to ((drum roll)): beckysue2!!!!!

That's to beckysue2 for being our most faithful reviewer and being one of the first people to post on every single chapter.

Who will get the coveted REVIEWER OF THE 5 CHAPTERS AWARD next fifth chapter?! Ooo, the tension builds…

Quote Disclaimer:

Shakespeare quotes from_ The Taming of the Shrew _and _King Henry_


	6. The Art of Modeling

Upon getting home, Ginny made herself a quick One-Flick Feast for dinner. The small amount of food in the plastic container was barely a meal, much less a feast, with a slice of plain turkey and a tiny brownie, but it was food and Ginny was starving.

She ate rather slowly, thinking over her day. It had not been as bad as she had previously expected, she had to admit. Draco was still the twit that he had been in school and, as such, rather annoying, but tolerable. 

Ginny sighed tiredly and glanced at the clock. Already 8:30. She had stayed at Draco's far longer than it had seemed. Finishing her dinner, she grabbed some paper and pencil and retreated to her room.

She wrote until nine-thirty, continuing her 'story' from the previous day. As she looked at the clock, she knew she should get some sleep; Draco would be angry if she was late again. But since she didn't care whether he was angry or not, she decided to get herself a cup of coffee and tune into the wireless. As she sipped her beverage and listened to the Weird Sisters' new tune, Ginny half dreaded and half look forward to tomorrow. She mentally slapped herself, how could she even want to return to that mansion ever again? And after the way he treated her? Well, if Draco Malfoy thought that she would sit down and take that, he had another thing coming....

After she finished her coffee, Ginny went back to her story, killed off a random character, and then went ahead to bed.

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"You're late. Again."

Ginny sipped the mug of coffee she brought from home and leaned against the arm of a leather sofa. She stood in the Malfoy library with an impatient Malfoy standing before her. 

"Okay," she shrugged, "So now what?"

Draco's glare deepened. "I'd think you should get started," he replied through clenched teeth.

"Fine. Go sit. Let me get ready..." Ginny ambled to the bag she left yesterday, and dug through to find a quill, erasable ink, a packet of her INSTA-photos that she took yesterday, and a small package. It read: **Sam's Convenient Canvas. Just write the measurements, and it'll appear like magic!** Ginny scribbled down some numbers and laid the package on the floor. The plain brown wrappings unfolded, and then unfolded again, and again, and kept at it until it was quite a large piece of brown paper. It settled into its new size and then slowly raised itself, gradually changing colour and texture until it was the largest canvas that Draco had ever seen and Ginny had ever painted on. Then with her wand, Ginny summoned a compact easel and set it up by the corner of the library. She enlarged it and soon the canvas was set perfectly on the easel. She examined it, adjusting the easel here and there, and with a satisfied smile, she returned to her bag and withdrew a (normal-sized) sketchbook.

"Sit, don't move. I'll adjust. Be silent." Ginny grabbed her photos and began setting her model.

Ginny took a quick glance at the photo, then at Draco. He was sitting in the same place, but that was about all that was right for the pose. Ginny rolled her eyes and walked over to him. She grabbed the open book out of his hands and put it back on the shelf behind him. Quickly, she searched for the book he had the previous day. _There._ Plucking it of the shelf, she returned to her model.

"Hold this," she snapped, her gaze returning to the photo as Draco took the book from her. "Now relax your arm. You look like you are trying to strangle the book. No--" Ginny sighed exasperatedly and knelt down in front of Draco. Determined, she placed his fingers where they seemed to be in the picture. She was working quite nicely with all of this, until she noticed how close she was to him... and that she was touching his hand.

Perhaps he heard her thoughts or noticed how her hand lingered longer than it should have for Draco said, his tone dangerous and his annoying sneer placed firmly on his face, "Don't touch me." He said it slowly, as if daring her to do the exact thing he forbid.

"Then do this right!" Ginny snapped, rising too quickly and getting a minor headache. _I'm going to need more coffee,_ Ginny thought as she went back to her canvas.

She looked at the canvas, and then she looked at the model. Impossible. With the size of the canvas, the attitude of Draco, and the prolonged exposure to each other, there was no way this portrait was going to be finish, at least, finished with both of them still living. Ginny sighed and consulted her photos once again. It was all wrong. 

"Draco..." She said slowly, trying to figure out what exactly she wanted. "Move your head a little to the left, but point it down some more... Okay, okay... Now really slowly, bring your right leg up..." Draco stared.

"Bring your leg up or I'll bring it up for you!" Ginny lost the calm, patient voice she had been trying to keep.

"Jeez, Weasley-"

"It's not Weasley," Ginny cut in edgily, "it's Ginny. Just... try to cooperate and it'll save us both a lot of time and headaches."

"Look, _Ginny, _you do things your way, I do them my way."

Ginny threw down her packet of photos, spilling them on the ground. "All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand!" 

"Calm down, Red, anger does not become you."

Ginny turned and glared at Draco. He wore a smirk that infuriated her and his laid back position stoked the fire that was her anger. "You're an arrogant , Draco. You know that?"

"I've heard it before."

Ginny rolled her eyes and bent down to pick up the photos. The pose was still not exactly what it was in the pictures, but it had potential. 

"Okay," she started, trying to calm down, "now turn your head more towards the window. Good. Now look at me -- No! Without turning your head! That's it... okay...." She set the pictures on floor under the easel and started a few rough sketches in the sketchbook.

"Aren't you supposed to be _painting_...?" Draco inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

"I will paint sometime," Ginny replied in a distant voice. She was in her element, art, and there was nothing that Draco could say that would shake her out of it.

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Weeks went by, and Ginny returned to the mansion everyday. Each day more stubborn and strong willed. Although Draco was still an insensitive wart, but she was used to it now, she supposed. His barbed insults didn't sting, and she flung nasty comments right back at him. Things had been going well and, although Ginny hated to admit it, sometimes she looked forward to the next day's work. 

------------------------------------------

It was early June when Ginny woke up and opened her blinds to a grey sky and violent looking clouds. Normally, Ginny enjoyed a thunderstorm, but she needed the light for her work, she had begun painting yesterday. 

"Maybe it'll blow over," she muttered and began to get dressed.

She arrived at the house of Malfoy around ten o'clock and rain was gently falling. She went to the study and found it empty. Ginny went over to the window and looked up at the sky. She had been looking for a few minutes when she heard someone enter behind her. She spun around and found Draco, dressed in his modeling attire and looking faintly surprised.

"I expected you later," he said and walked toward her.

"I came earlier to get a head start, but this," she jerked her thumb back, motioning toward the window, "won't give enough light to work."

"Can't you make it light enough with magic," he asked as though talking to someone who was rather slow.

"It's, not the same," she replied and crossed her arms.

Draco shrugged. "Maybe it will blow over."

Seconds after he said that, thunder roared and the rain lashed harder. Even though it had only been a few seconds, the room grew significantly darker, and torches on the wall automatically lit.

"I'm hungry," Ginny said, rather randomly. "You have a kitchen somewhere?" 

Draco rolled his eyes. "There's one somewhere in here. Follow me."

Ginny followed him through the maze of halls and rooms until finally they reached a large red door.

"This is it, I think," Draco said, pushing open the door.

It opened to a large white room full of counters and different stoves and cupboards. A few small house elves scurried around the floor, cleaning and picking up things. One tapped Ginny's leg lightly. Looking down, she say a small elf with long pointed ears and a small round nose.

"What would the young miss like of us?" it said in a high, nervous voice.

"Erm, a small sandwich would be fine... I guess," Ginny replied. The elf nodded and disappeared among the counters. 

"This way, miss," another said, motioning for her to follow it. Ginny did so without question and was brought to a small table and two chairs by a large window. Ginny took her seat. Draco, however, remained standing. The house elves did not seem to notice him but stayed out of his way.

"You can sit down," Ginny said.

Draco looked at her. Not glared, not scowled, just looked.

"Well?" Ginny questioned.

Draco sighed and pulled out his chair and sat down. A house-elf ran by and offered up a sandwich on a white china plate. Ginny bit into it and they sat in silence, listening to the storm raging on outside, until Draco spoke up.

"So, you engaged to Potter, yet?" Ginny choked. His tone wasn't bitter, or acidic, or sarcastic. It was just cold, and pale. As if he was talking about the weather.

"I was... up till about a month ago," she answered. "Why do you ask?"

Draco shrugged, "Do you still love him?" Again, no emotion; not in his voice, nor his face, nor his eyes. What an odd thing for a Malfoy to ask. Ginny didn't think she had ever heard him say the word 'love' before.

"No. Of course not. Why?"

"Curiosity. It's just that you're still wearing your ring."

Ginny choked again, and looked at her left hand. Sure enough, the diamond ring was winking at her. She sort of shrieked, but she muffled it with her right hand. She desperately began pulling on the ring. It stuck. She yanked and pulled and pried but it just stayed on. She was sure that she was making a fool of herself, but she refused to wear the ring of someone who broke her heart. She heard Draco snicker and turned to look at him.

"It won't come off," she said.

"That much I gathered. Here," he replied and took her hand. Within seconds the ring had slipped off her finger. Draco gave her back her ring and hand. Ginny dropped the ring on the floor. She stood up and stepped on the ring, and ground it into the marble floor, delighting in the crunching sounds.

She sat back down and both she and Draco looked at the floor. It was bent out of shape and the diamond had shattered.

"What a cheap ring," Draco stated and Ginny laughed a little. Her heart was beating a hundred times a minute and she held her left hand in her right.

"Yeah..." Ginny said, trying to think of another conversation topic to break her uncomfortable silence.

"What happened with you and Potter?" Draco asked sipping the tea an elf handed him, his tone sounding as it always did; cold and distant.

"He just decided not to go through with it at the last minute, the prat," Ginny replied quickly, almost desperate for a change of topic. "What about you? Surely you have a few romantic interests."

"I've had a few here and there," Draco replied. Ginny silently cursed how calm he could reply when she was so tense. "Nothing serious though."

Ginny couldn't believe it. She was having conversation about relationship problems with none other than Draco Malfoy. None-the-less, she was still anxious for a change in subject. Luckily, her sandwich arrived just on que and the conversation was dropped as she bit into the peanut butter and jelly filling.

Unfortunately, she finished it a little too quickly and was once again in silence.

"Erm," she started, desperately, "What other interesting rooms to you have in here...?"

_Great one Ginny,_ she told herself sarcastically, _really smooth..._

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Hope everyone enjoyed that! Put a touch of fluff in the end… nothing big, but a touch.

Another big thanks to all the reviewers! And, as I had gotten the note from several reviewers, anonymous reviews are now allowed! I have no clue why that was turned on in the first place…..

In the next chapter: Umm… I don't exactly know yet, haven't written it…..


	7. Open House

_----------------End of Chapter 6----------------------------------_

"I'm sure there are a few," Draco said and smirked.

"Well why don't you show them to me," Ginny queried.

"Shouldn't you be getting home?"

Ginny flushed. Shouldn't she? "Well, I just got here..."

"But there's nothing for you to do." Ginny called for a cup of coffee to buy her some time. She glanced out the window as she waited.

"It's raining," she said and Draco snorted.

"Yes, that is what we call it when the sky cries like that."

Ginny glared. "Ha ha. You didn't let me finish. My apartment leaks and I just don't really want to go back anyway."

"Why not," Draco questioned daringly.

"Because there's nothing to do," Ginny retorted. "If I stay here then at least I'll have something to do or someone to talk to. Unless you throw me out," she added and received her coffee from a squeaky elf. The Draco Malfoy she knew in school would've put her out in an instant. The Draco Malfoy she first knew wouldn't have accepted her in his home in the first place. But the Draco Malfoy sitting in front of her just sighed, and said "You'll probably enjoy the conservatory. Come on, this way."

Draco, once again, led her through the many hallways of his mansion. Ginny marveled silently at the interior beauty of his house. Large paintings hung on the walls of the wide corridors while ornate lanterns hung from the walls. Some of the magical paintings watched her with curious eyes, while others sneered. Ginny even heard one whisper "Look at that hair! We didn't have hair that hideous in my time," as she passed.

The entrance to the conservatory was unlike the other entrances she had seen in the mansion. In the place of large oak doors was an elaborate iron gate. Draco opened it carelessly, leading Ginny into the room. High windows seamlessly met a curved ceiling of glass. Rough stone blocks of different shades of gray and brown made up the cold floor while small flowering ivy sprung up through the cracks, showing dark green petals and crimson blooms. Against the wall on which the door was placed, rose a huge fountain which cascaded from a hole near the where the walls began to arch to form the ceiling down at least three, maybe four stories, through the rocks and plants which were in its way. At the bottom of the waterfall was a small pool with a railing around it of the same stones which made up the floor as well as a few iron chairs.

Ginny was stunned, to say the least. It was a full minute before she could speak.

"Wow..."

"It is nice, isn't it," Draco said smugly, as he surveyed the room, his hands tucked into his pockets.

They both stood in silence, admiring the room. Suddenly there was a roar of thunder and lightning filled the room. Ginny jumped a foot off of the floor. Draco chuckled.

"If it's too much for you, we can look at some other rooms."

Ginny composed herself and replied, "I was startled, that's all. But more rooms would be lovely, thank you."

Draco smirked at her formality and offered his arm as he said, "M'lady, follow me and you shall see, perhaps, the billiard room?"

Ginny pushed his arm away. "Lead the the way, kind sir."

He nodded slightly and walked in front of her. Ginny followed, matching his brisk pace.

The doors to the billiard room were ordinary, at least for the mansion: tall, wood, dark, expensive. The billiard room itself was far less impressive than the conservatory, but stunning, all the same. A huge gold inlaid pool table made of deep mahogany stood in the center of the room. Hanging over it was a small chandelier made with elegantly curved iron and delicate-looking cream candles while in the corners of the room were crimson armchairs and couches.

"You can close your mouth," Draco said, taking one of the queue sticks off the wall.

Ginny scowled, but a smile played on her lips.

I haven't played in ages," Ginny said as she pulled a stick off the wall.

Draco gathered and racked the balls. "Then I won't beat you but too much..."

Ginny put the plain white ball into place and waited for Draco to remove the triangular rack. She pulled back her arm and struck the ball. It flew toward the tidy pyramid and soon the table was covered in pool balls. Ginny waited until all the balls had settled and then surveyed the table. She laughed aloud at herself.

"I told you I was no good at pool. Just look."

Not one ball was even close to a pocket. Draco smirked.

"Watch a professional..."

And of course, his shot was perfect. A small red ball went directly into the far hole while a green one came very close to another hole nearer to Draco. He smirked and aimed at the ball.

"Do you ever get lonely here all alone?" Ginny asked while he drew his stick back. It hit the cue ball on the side and sent it spinning off in the wrong direction.

"No," Draco replied, his eyes on the pool table.

"Never?"

He hit the green ball in. "Never." He looked at the table, examining his next target.

"Oh."

He drew the stick back.

"Have you ever been in love?" Ginny asked as Draco's queue stick came to meet the smooth white ball. He hit the green velvet underneath it, making a small scratch, while the white ball made a pathetic hop.

"No." He glared at her and motioned for her to take her turn. She preformed the move rather clumsily, making the queue ball weakly hit a few others before stopping. Draco, once again, stepped forward.

"Have you even seriously dated someone?" Ginny asked.

Miss.

"No."

She took her pathetic excuse of a turn.

"Have you ever been loved by someone?"

"No."

Another miss.

Ginny was silent for the rest of the game.

Draco won, no contest. Ginny never hit one in. They put their sticks away in silence and began racking the balls.

"Never," Ginny asked in a small voice.

"Never what," Draco replied as he leaned against the bar in a corner of the room.

"Been loved?"

Draco looked away. "No."

Ginny sat on the edge of the pool table, legs dangling in a childish manner. "Not even your family?"

"The Malfoys aren't an affectionate family." Ginny couldn't believe that.

"Your mother...?"

"My mother hadn't the interest or time to care for a child. She produced an heir that would carry on the family name. Her only concern was that I stay alive so in her old age I could support her."

Ginny winced. She had seen Narcissa before, when she went to the Quidditch Cup when she was a girl. Even then, she knew that the Malfoys couldn't have been a loving family. But still... a child who grew up unloved and uncared for?

"I'm sorry," she muttered and Draco didn't answer. They sat in silence and Ginny realized how awkward their conversation had turned. "I should be getting home," she said lamely and got off of the pool table. 

"I'll.... I'll see you tomorrow, Draco." Draco turned to face Ginny, his cold, bland eyes looking into hers. 

"Bye."

Ginny apparated.

The paced her study for some time after she got home. What had gotten into her? She should not have pried into his life but he did have a choice on answering or not... Didn't he?

She also had this strange new feeling toward him: pity. She pitied him for being alone, pitied him for not having loved anyone, and pitied him for not being loved. Ginny couldn't imagine living like that. Sure, her life had not all been great but she did have fond memories of her family and friends. Draco didn't have that. Any of that.

She sat down on a stool, an island among a mess of paintings, paints, and random odds and ends. She muttered a spell and flicked her wand. A package of used pastels and a pat of paper flew to her hands. She really needed to relax, to empty her mind of everything. Sighing, she put a stub of green to the paper and began drawing.

Ginny drew for the rest of the day, stopping here and there to get some coffee or food. She couldn't _do_ anything, her mind wouldn't let her. She was so trained to do art things that she couldn't focus on anything else. Even her hobby was art related- writing! What kind of artist takes up writing! Another escape from her emotions, another escape from life. She needed someone who could keep her focus, someone who could _help_ her, for goodness sake. She just obsessed, that was all. When she found something she liked, she obsessed. She painted and drew and sculpted for hours and hours and when she wrote, she couldn't pull herself away. And when she had been dating Harry... he was her life. She needed to get out. Go somewhere. Away from art and everything she knew. Do something with herself. She needed to get out now.

Ginny threw down the 'thing' she was working on and began pacing. This time, she wandered into the kitchen, where a medium sized package awaited her. She approached it curiously and untied the note from the wrappings. It read:

_Dearest Ginny,_

I hope you are doing well. I have not gotten to talk with you much since our last meeting... I just wanted you to know that I really do care about you. More than anything, it's just... I don't think we were perfect for each other... You see, I still love you but I'm not in love with you. I tried to tell you that a few months ago, but you never let me explain. I hope that this letter finds you in good health and as happy as ever.

Much love,  
Harry

P.S. Are you coming to the Burrow this weekend? Oh, and here is your stuff from my place. 

"That insufferable--" Ginny ripped the paper in half "arrogant--" She ripped it again "little--" _Rip._ "b!" She could feel her control break as the pieces fell to the floor. How could he even write to her?  
'"I still love you,'" Ginny quoted aloud, "no. Now he loves his little whore of a co-worker!" She could feel tears of anger start to leak from her eyes. She couldn't take this. She threw the box on the floor, not bothering to open it. She needed to leave. Now. She took her wand out of her pocket and apparated to the first place she thought of.

She stood outside the Malfoy mansion, the tears on her face mingling with the pouring rain. She stood for a moment, dazed from the letter and the package that was still sitting on her kitchen counter. She raised the door knocker (of course the Malfoys would have a door knocker, it was the most elaborate thing ever made from silver) and let it fall. Its sound was drowned out from a roar of thunder. The door opened and a house elf squeaked in surprise.

"Yes miss? Is there something Shober can do?"

"Um," Ginny said, sniffling and wiping her face. "Can, can you get Drac- uh, Mister Malfoy? I... I'd like to talk to him." The elf invited Ginny to stand in the foyer and then ran along to fetch his master. Ginny sniffled as fresh tears ran down her face. Her hair was matted to her face and her feet squelched in her shoes. She was dripping and an emotional wreck and barely could stand there any longer. Finally Draco rounded the corner to the foyer and stopped in his tracks when he saw her.

"Your back," he said slowly. "And wet..."

Ginny was going to have a witty reply, perhaps a comment on his insensitivity, but all she could do was hiccough. So she did. When she didn't reply, Draco must've realized that she wasn't herself.

"Elf," he called and one came running. "Get her something warm to drink. We'll be in the library..." Draco turned, as if to leave, but Ginny remained where she was.

"Have you your wand? Dry yourself off and come along."

The thought of using magic hadn't occurred to Ginny, so she did what he said and she was in the library, salty tears still dripping down her face. She sat in a large chair and pulled her legs up beneath her. They sat in silence for a while until Draco made a lame attempt at conversation.

"So why did you come here?"

Ginny shrugged. "I-... It was the... the first place I thought of..."

"You are a wreck, aren't you?" At this, Ginny launched into an angry explanation of why she appeared at his doorstep, with many choice words and several reasons why men were the scum of the earth. During all of this, Draco just sat and listened with a blank expression and pale eyes.

"And, I guess that's why I'm here," Ginny finished lamely.

He said nothing.

"Erm... I guess I could leave if I am causing too much trouble..." Ginny said beginning to rise from her chair.

"No, sit down. The elf should be here any moment with your drink," Draco said, his tone showing no emotion.

Ginny obeyed and sank back into the chair, feeling very stupid for coming. Why had she thought to come here of all places? The Burrow would have welcomed her back... wouldn't it? Instead, she had chosen to be with this _Malfoy_.

"Miss," Shober had returned with a steaming cup of hot chocolate, "Your drink is here. Is there anything else you would like?"

"No, thank you," she said quietly, taking the cup from the elf and sipping it. The warm liquid calmed her. She closed her eyes and took another sip.

"You're welcome to stay here, if you want..." Draco said dully as Ginny drank.

"I... um... well, thanks I guess."

"I'll show you to the guest room," Draco said and stood. Ginny nodded and finished her drink. He led her down a short passage and came to a plain looking door.

"Just ring the bell if you need anything, its sent down to the kitchen and an elf will come." Ginny muttered her thanks and with a goodnight, Draco had left.

The room was large, though nowhere near as large as Draco's room. It had one large window covering an entire wall. A small door in the corner lead to a rounded balcony overlooking what Ginny guessed was the back of the mansion with a large lake surrounded by small trees. The large bed stood against the opposite wall, under a canopy of sheer emerald silk. The walls were the same colour which the walls in Draco's room were: a shimmering gray. Ginny went over to the bed and collapsed on top of it.

"What am I doing," she muttered to herself. "Why'd I come here anyway? Now he probably thinks I'm a total nutcase, which I probably am... And now I care what he thinks? What's going on?" Ginny sat up on the bed and leaned against the headboard, hugging her legs. "Well maybe, we've grown into a friendship... I mean, we can tolerate each other right? That has to count for something. And he showed her some of his rooms and kind of talked to be in the pool table room. That's kind of friendly, right? And! And he's letting me stay in his mansion instead of sending me back home! What about that?" Nobody answered Ginny's reasoning, and she slipped off the bed and walked around the room. She transfigured her clothes into something more comfortable and found herself at the window. Ginny sighed, she had no idea what was going on...

-------------------------------------------

From the author:

Since it's Christmas and all, I thought all my lovely reviewers deserve a Christmas present. So I'm giving you all a 'sneak peek' at the ending of the fanfic! Enjoy

_And then suddenly, someone apparated in front of the window! It was VOLDEMORT!!!!!! "Eppers!" cried Ginny and Voldemort burst through the glass. "Now I've got you," he said. "You were my accomplice in your second year, and now I've comer to kill you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
"Draco Draco, help!!" Ginny cried and ran around the room, chased by Voldemort. Draco burst through the doors in a very heroic way. "I'll save you, my love!" He swished his wand and Voldemort was melted. "Oh, Draco," Ginny said as she fell into his arms. "You're irresistible." "I love you, Ginny," he said and passionately kissed her. "Let's get married," Ginny said. "Now!" "Ok," replied Draco so they did and they all lived happily ever after and had 14 kids._

Ha Ha, fooled you! Just kidding, there'll be no Voldemort here! But I'd thought you all would enjoy that. Happy Holidays


	8. Uncomfortable Gatherings

The next morning, Ginny woke to see the sun weakly shining through the remains of the last night's storm and a small elf at the side of her bed.

"G-g-g-good morning, Shober," she said through a yawn.

"Did the young miss sleep well? Shober brought you breakfast." The elf set a tray on Ginny's lap.

"Oh, thank you," she replied but the elf was already gone. Ginny started nibbling on the toast.

Ginny finished her toast and looked around her room. Mirror, window, balcony, bed. Just as it was last night. Ginny reluctantly rolled out of the warm, comfortable bed and struggled over to the mirror. She looked terrible. She didn't know what she was expecting to see, after all, she had seen her reflection everyday of her life, but today it came as a shock. Her hair was even messier than usual and her pajamas rumpled. Her face was still pink and it was terribly obvious she had been crying last night. That's why she never cried, she didn't like showing the world her weakness. But it was different last night. As Ginny ran her fingers through her hair, she thought about that. Draco seemed like the kind of guy who would be revolted when given a sobbing girl, but he was... was... Ginny hesitated, as if someone could hear her thoughts. He was almost kind. She shuddered. Well, it was true, her conscience told her. She never felt like she could cry in front of Harry, or Hermione, or any other friend. And now Draco was so different than she knew him... Maybe he changed…

Change? Malfoy? People like him never change. Pride and deceit were in his blood and that was something that would never leave. Ginny yanked open the balcony door and stepped outside. The lingering scent of the storm hung in the brisk summer breeze.

Ginny found her way into the library, with freshly transfigured clothes, and sat on the edge of the couch. _This is going to be awkward..._ she thought and glanced out the window. Sunny. Cloudless. Perfect. 

"I trust you slept well?" Ginny turned around so fast she almost fell from her perch.

"Erm... yeah. I did... Uh, thanks." Draco waved his hand and walked over to the window. "There's enough light then, today?" Ginny nodded. "Then why don't we get started."

The assumed their position and Ginny worked in Silence, Draco sat in silence. Today she was painting his hand. Often she would catch herself looking at his face, his eyes, more particularly.

_What is this? So he lets you sleep in a spare room and now you fancy him? You were an emotional wreck! Any decent person would've done the same,_ Ginny scolded herself. Still, she kept sneaking glances at his eyes. They weren't gray and they weren't colorless. They were blue. A lovely blue color, like the sky after a storm. Ginny couldn't wait to paint his eyes.

Painting went slowly that day. Her mind kept arguing and it seemed like she was gaining no progress on the hand.

"No, too blue," she muttered, painting over a shadow with a dark blue green. Better. A slight pain jabbed behind her eyes. Ginny rubbed her head with the back of her hand. How long had it been? Hours? Days? She couldn't tell. It looked like it had been no longer than a few minutes but her headache was telling her differently. Draco was sitting there as if frozen in his pose.

"Erm," Ginny started, "Why don't we take a little break...?"

Draco stretched. Ginny wished she had a watch; there was no telling how long he sat perfectly still. She shook her head, who cares how long he sat so long as he was still and quiet? Maybe her emotions were raw and she was just going around feeling things for everybody. Soon she'd start looking at that house-elf...

Ginny got through the day with many awkward conversations and even more awkward silences. Seconds crawled by and minutes even slower. Finally, when Ginny could take it no more, she threw down her paintbrush and announced that she was done for the day. 

"Already?"

"The light has changed," Ginny lied easily, if you had lived with six brothers all your life, lying would come easily for you, too.

"I trust you'll be sleeping at your home tonight," Draco said, glancing at Ginny.

"Ha ha, very funny. As a matter of fact, I will be, so I'll just be on my way."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Ginny stopped as she began to pick up her paintbrush. It was Friday, which means that tomorrow was Saturday.

"Erm... actually, I was wondering if I could have tomorrow off...." Draco looked questioningly at her. "Well, it is a holiday tomorrow and I'm always with my family..." Draco shrugged. "I suppose that is tomorrow, then. Fine, be with your family." Ginny looked at him for a while. She would be with her family, most likely having fun and eating, and he would be up here, all alone. His mother doesn't even like him...

"Bye," she said and apparated.

The afternoon sun lazily crept through the shades and into Ginny's apartment. Ginny herself was sitting on her favorite chairs in the small living area sketching out some random figures and faces, as she had been doing since she returned home. The Daily Prophet lay discarded at her feet while a near empty cup of luke-warm coffee sat forgotten on the cheap table to the right of the fading blue recliner.

She woke up late on Saturday morning (no surprises there), fixed herself some coffee (again, no surprises), and tried to think about the day ahead of her. She was quite looking forward to that afternoon, when all of her family and a few friends would be back at The Burrow again. They'd be eating and laughing and, although perhaps some awkward moments with a select few, the day would be all in all enjoyable. She _tried._ But the only image that was in her head was of Draco, sitting alone in his massive house, with only some annoying house-elves for company.

"Ginny!" her mother squealed, greeting her daughter at the door of the Burrow. Molly Weasley looked the same as she had always looked, her untidy red hair falling falling messily out of its bun, grey streaks beginning to poke up from her scalp, while her familiar figure had lost none of its past plumpness.

She captured Ginny in a big hug to which Ginny merely smiled and returned. After releasing her, her mother led her inside.

Everybody was there, nearly. Percy hadn't even contacted the family for years. Ron saw him a few times at the ministry, he was married and living happily in his own world. And Charlie, Tonks, and their little girl were out getting milk. After the hugs and the kisses and the 'good to see you's" Ginny rested herself comfortably between Bill and George. Bill had married Fleur Delacour about six years ago and had to rowdy twin boys, one of whom was struggling to wiggle out of his father's lap. George had yet to marry, but his current girlfriend was looking pretty serious, she sat on his other side on the magically enlarged sofa. Jillian? Juliette? Fred sat next to Angelina, ten months married and six months pregnant. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were in the kitchen, avoiding Ginny, most likely. Ginny participated in the normal family chatting, how's your health, how's your work, how's the baby, blah blah blah. Finally, when Charlie, Tonks (although her last name was now Weasley, she preferred to go by her nickname), and their seven-year-old Stacy returned, the Weasley parents gathered everyone in the small living room and began to give the traditional speech.

"A-hem!" Molly coughed to gather everyone's attention, but since nearly everyone knew what was coming, she needn't have bothered.

"As you all know," she began like she had every year, "seven years ago some of the very people in this room," here she became teary eyed, "preformed a most courageous and wonderful thing. They risked their lives and sacrificed themselves to save the Wizarding world and even perhaps the Muggles. Seven years ago today, June seventeenth, Harry, Ron, and Hermione defeated You-Know-Who." There was some applause. Ginny smacked her hands together a few times and quickly put them back in her lap. She had been there, too. So had Neville and Luna Lovegood. Did no one remember them?

Harry stepped forward and cleared his throat. He was going to make a speech about how evil is bad and such. Ginny had heard it a thousand times.

Honestly, how could anyone, especially Harry, forget the lesser trio? Had they not been there, Ron would've died, but Neville came and saved his life. And Hermione, Hermione would've been Crucio-ed until kingdom come had not Luna attacked the Death Eater. And Harry. Harry would've gone with Voldemort if a sixteen-year-old hadn't shouted at him. How could anyone forget something like that? Especially since... since Neville didn't make it out... A lump rose in Ginny's throat but she quickly recovered. Ginny did not cry in front of her family. Especially Fred and George. And especially Harry.

Harry was half-way through his horribly long and repetitive speech and had still not mentioned the other three who had been there. Ginny breathed in and out slowly, trying to keep her temper under control. It was like this every year. Exact same speech. Exact same speaker. About the exact same people.

Her family around her was clapping soberly. He had finished his speech. The group slowly rose from their seats and headed into the kitchen.

Suddenly, everything was sunshine and daisies again. People were laughing and joking and racing to get food. Ginny wanted to scream,'Hello! We just finished talking about the evils of the world and death and destruction! How can you even change the subject so quickly?!' But she just sat down next to Ron and asked Harry, "Could you pass the potatoes?"  
Harry held a bowl forward and Ginny reached out with her left hand to take it. Her hand held the bowl, but so did Harry's. "I've got it, Harry," she said calmly, and she realized that he was examining her hand.

"Where's your ring?" It was amazing how those three simple words caught the attention of everyone in the noisy kitchen. Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. How incredibly stupid is the male population. 

"Considering we aren't dating anymore, I didn't feel the need to wear it."

"Well can I have it back then?"

Tactless. "It's smashed into little pieces on Malfoy's kitchen floor, though I expect that the elves have cleaned it up by now." Outrage.

"You smashed it?!" "What were you thinking?" But most of the outcries were "What were you doing on Malfoy's kitchen floor?!"

"I was trying to do my job, but it was real dark and stormy, and we just ended up in the kitchen."

Hermione dropped the plate of rolls she was receiving from Ron and it fell to the floor with a sharp clang, making it painfully obvious how silent everyone in the kitchen was. Molly was frozen, fork halfway to her mouth. 

"Sweetheart," she said slowly, "you're an artist. You don't into people's kitchens to paint."

"Well, I guess you could say this is an... ah, _exception._" 

"Gin," Harry said, "why were you at Malfoy's house?"

"I told you, I was working!"

"What kind of artist are you," Ron blurted out, before Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. Most of the brothers laughed. Ginny pressed her lips together.

"I can assure you Ron, I am most professional in my business."

"And what business is that?!"

"Ron," his mother said sharply.

"So, what is it _exactly_ that you were doing in Malfoy's kitchen," Fred asked jokingly, filling his mouth with some sort of casserole.

"Eating a sandwich," Ginny answered as she took a bite of the food in front of her. A sigh of relief was heard throughout the table.

"And how did the ring get involved?" Harry, bringing himself back into the conversation, was really getting on Ginny's nerves. "He pointed out that I was wearing it, I didn't want to wear it, so I took it off... And smashed it." It took a while, but the conversation turned from Ginny to Bill and Fleur and about their children. And then to Charlie and Tonks about their girl. And finally, to Fred and Angelina about their expected boy. By dessert, Ginny was sick of children.

Ginny was the second to rise from the table, after her mother who announced that they would be moving into the living room for coffee. Ginny walked over to the kitchen counter and saw a plate of her favorite homemade cookies, peanut butter; no doubt for coffee. Ginny took the plate, and said quickly, "WellI'vereallygottobegoingbye!" and apparated to a place she had been spending much of her time lately.

The large door leading to the Malfoy Manor loomed before her, dark and imposing. Ginny had barely touched the iron knocker when the door was opened. A small house elf stood at the entrance.

"Hello Shober," Ginny said with a little smile. Shober merely bowed and issued her inside. "Might you be able to get, erm, your master?" 

"Yes, if the young miss wishes it," the elf squeaked before running off down one of the hallways.

Ginny stood alone in front of the door, the large entrance hall spreading out before her, complete with a sweeping grand staircase made out of gray marble and huge chandelier, which hung high over her head. She looked down at the plate in her hands. The cookies sat there, begging to be eaten. She hoped he would hurry up.

"What do you want now?" a voice said, echoing in the large room.

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From the Author:

Hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter! You will all be happy to know the next chapter is about halfway through and I promise you, you all will LOVE it! Bwahahaha!


	9. Palm to Palm is Holy Palmer's Kiss

"A good afternoon to you, too," Ginny replied as Draco entered the hall. Although he didn't show it, she just knew he was pleased to see her. As least, she hoped. "I was sick of my family and just... Well, since you'd be alone... I brought some cookies," she said, holding out the plate.

"Peanut butter. My mum made them. They are very good..." She felt quite stupid, just standing there, and desperately hoped he would say something.

"Well... Are you going to eat some? Because I'll be perfectly happy eating them myself," Ginny said as she unwrapped one corner of the plate and took a brown cookie out. Draco laughed. Or scoffed. Or both combined. He waved his hand, motioning for her to follow them and he led them into the billiard room.

"Would you like a rematch?"

Ginny set the plate down on the bar and laughed. "I've gotten better, you know."

"Oh sure, we'll see after the match."

They played. Ginny lost. Again. Badly. She didn't mind, it was amazing how easy Draco was to talk to. Once you got past the bigotry and the conceit and coldness, he wasn't such a bad guy. Ginny could handle bigotry and conceit and coldness. She had six brothers, she knew all about that.

They sat at the bar, finishing off the cookies. They were talking about something like food, Ginny didn't know. She was just having a good time. At the same time, both Ginny and Draco reached for the last cookie, and both hands stopped inches away. They sat in silence, both looking at each other, waiting for the other to move.

"I'll play you for it," Draco said.

"Not fair! You know you'll win!"

"And that's why I want to play you for it."

And that was how she passed her evening. Talking with and scowling at this infamous Mister Malfoy. After he ate the last cookie, which he did play her for, they took a walk about the mansion. They talked of nothing in particular; general ideas about everything from house plans to the economy of the wizarding world. He showed her places in the mansion she had not already toured such as the magnificent ballroom and the expansive dining area. Ginny found herself thoroughly enjoying Draco's company. And that felt very strange to her. She didn't know anyone who enjoyed his company. It seemed he had no friends, and as of now, Ginny couldn't see why not. He was witty, he was intelligent, and he was a great listener. He just had a cold exterior. A very cold, rock hard, thick exterior.

When Ginny checked the clock that stood in the kitchen, where they were once again they had ventured seeing how the cookies worn off long ago, and realized that quite a lot of time had passed.

"I best be leaving, I had no idea what time it was," Ginny said and rose from her chair.

"I guess time flies when you're having fun," Draco answered and rose

also. He walked her to the door and then they stood there, Ginny not leaving, and Draco not returning to whatever he was doing when Ginny arrived.

"I, um... I had a good time..." Ginny was anxious to fill the silence they had so often had. Draco nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow." The stood again.

Ginny felt like she ought to do something. Like she had been on a date and needed to show that yes I am interested and that yes you can call me again tomorrow. She really wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him, but she knew that it would repulse him. So instead, she reached out and touched his arm, a feeble gesture, but a gesture nonetheless.

"See you tomorrow," she said softly, and quickly apparated, hardly being able to stand being with him anymore.

Ginny couldn't help but smile when she dropped her bag on the cheap tile floor and made her way to the chair in the living area. She had had a great time with Draco, she concluded. Much better than spending her day hounded with questions about the whole portrait commission at her family's. It wasn't that she didn't love spending time with them, it was just... Well, Ginny had changed since she left school. The innocent, meek, silent little girl who never raised her hand and never got any attention had left and been replaced by a grown woman who knew her abilities and was able to make a successful living off her talents. No longer was she ignorant of the world's problems nor was she to be sheltered from the hardships of life. She was strong and independent now. Her family had not yet realized that she was a grown-up now who paid her own bills and everything. Her family still treated her like the shy schoolgirl she had once been.

Yes, she thought with a smile, she had enjoyed being with Draco.

"This is getting really boring, you know."

"Shut up, I'm painting you're mouth."

"Humph."

Ginny could detect that Draco was pouting from being scolded, but he kept his mouth shut. Actually, she wasn't painting his mouth. She had done that days ago. She had hardly painted at all today, just standing back and looking at him, and then at the painting. It was missing something. It was too... bland. True, she had only partly finished him and not even started most of the background, but she could already tell that something was missing. But what?

"Ok, you can look at it."

Draco stood and groaned. He rubbed his neck and walked stiffly over to the easel. They both stood together and looked; Ginny through the eyes of an artist, and Draco through the eyes of someone who has been sitting too still for too long and really want to do something else.

"That isn't exactly what I look like..." He didn't say it critically, or coldly. He just said it. And it was true.

"If you wanted what you looked like, you should've hired a bloody photographer." Ginny answered snappishly, not because she was annoyed with Draco, but with herself. That she couldn't figure out what was wrong with the picture.

"Don't you think that maybe there should be something around here,"

Draco asked, pointing to the empty space beneath the chair he was sitting in.

Ginny slapped her forehead. "Duh..." she said to herself.

"I don't know what..." Draco said, almost as if he didn't want to appear superior to her in her own trade. Like he was making amends. Ginny turned and walked to a bookshelf and began taking stacks of books off.

"Books, of course. We're in a library! How can you just sit and have one book?" Ginny, arms laden with books, waddled over to the chair. Draco chuckled and took some books out of her arms. They kneeled next to each other, placing books randomly.

"Chronicles of Narnia? …Lord of the Rings? The Scarlet Letter? For

disliking Muggle-Borns so much, you certainly seem to enjoy their literature." Draco smirked. Ginny picked up a worn book and glanced at the title.

"Romeo and Juliet? Well, well what have we here?" Ginny flipped through

the pages. Some lines were underlined and many pages were booked marked with slips of parchment. She picked a bookmarked page and glanced at it. When she read the lines, she also smirked. How ironic.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss..."

"Have not saint's lips, and holy palmers too," Draco retaliated. Oh, he was too good to look at the lines, seeing how he had them memorized.

Alright, if he didn't need to look, neither did Ginny. She laid it on her lap.

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;

They pray grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

They both smiled.

"Um.. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake," Ginny said, nearly forgetting the lines. She was lost in a sea of grey, too conscious of her short breath, her closeness to Draco, and her knowledge of what was coming next.

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.

Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged," Draco replied softly, and then did nothing. The both sat there, looking at each other. They both knew what Shakespeare wrote, so why didn't they act on it? It was Ginny who looked away first; she couldn't hold his gaze anymore. She looked down at the book that sat in her lap. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't know what he wanted. Maybe he was equally confused, but what he did next surprised her more that anything he would ever do for the rest of his life.

He cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her.

It was a few moments before she could gather her thoughts. Her heart was beating a million miles a second and her brain was fuzzy. She just knew that she liked what he did and wanted him to do it again.

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

"Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!

Give me my sin again." They both kind of half-smiled and then their lips met once more.

"You kiss by the book," Ginny said and picked up the book from her lap and closed it. They both sat, not knowing what to do next...

"Um... Well, I...Do you want to go to the kitchens to get something to eat?" It was the first time Ginny had seen Draco Malfoy actually becoming tongue-tied.

Author's Note: A big thank you for all of my lovely reviewers! It's been way to long since I last updated, and I'm so grateful that you guys are still loyal! So I decided to reward you with a fluffy chap. You like? Dislike? I don't care just leave a review with your thoughts! –SD

Also: _Romeo and Juliet_ obviously belong to William Shakespeare and not to me.

And another side-note: Would anyone be interested in editing this? I have a ton of it written (probably about 2 chapters or so) just have no time to edit. If anyone would be interested in helping me, please just leave a review saying so and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!


	10. Harder Said than Done

Author's Note: I know it has been a long time, and I apologize! I really am sorry for the wait. I AM still writing this, I just ran out of time recently… But not to fear! A new chapter is here!

Also, as I feel there has been some confusion on the ring incident: Yes, I KNOW that diamonds are the hardest substance in the world. That was the point. It was a fake. The end, let us move on.

Enjoy!

--------------

"Erm, sure," Ginny replied, her eyes at the ground. She could feel the heat rising from her red cheeks.

"Well, let's go..." he said but before he turned to go, he held out his arm. Ginny hesitantly took it and allowed him to lead her to the kitchen.

They gave their orders to the house-elves and the small creatures scurried away, leaving them alone. Ginny leaned against the counter opposite Draco and looked at him.

"So, when is your birthday?" Draco was taken aback.

"...Why?"

"Your twenty-fifth birthday. When the painting needs to be done."

"Oh. January."

The first thought that Ginny came to Ginny was 'He came to me in March, demanding that this painting be done quickly when he had almost a year!' She was about to voice this when the little elf came back with their snacks and she was distracted by the food. They made small talk; weather, politics, literature. Ginny left when they had finished eating and went to her apartment. She went to her kitchen and fixed some coffee, ignoring the box that was still on her kitchen table, unwrapped. She leaned against the counter and held her mug in her hand. She didn't really want the coffee; it was just an old habit. Holding a steaming mug seemed to help her think. After a while of standing and holding her mug, she put it back on the counter and apparated away.

---

She stepped into **Enchanting Art Work** and waited until Claudia had finished helping a customer.

"I thought you had forgotten about me," she said as she came over to Ginny. Ginny hadn't brought anything new in since her 'angry' picture. She had been too busy with her portrait.

"I've been painting someone," Ginny answered. "And actually, I want to talk to you about that..." Claudia raised an eyebrow.

"It's about closing time, anyway. I'll just lock up now," she went to close the door. Ginny checked the clock.

"There's still an hour and a half before closing time..."

"No one buys anything in the last ninty minutes before closing. I'm sure they won't miss us." They locked the doors and headed to the back room to sit and have coffee. 

"So... what about this portrait?" Ginny swirled her coffee in it cup and looked away.

"It's not really the painting... It's more of... the model..."

Claudia was intrigued.

"And...?"

"And, uh... Well. I kissed him."

Claudia nearly chocked on her coffee, and that's saying something considering it's pretty difficult to choke on liquid.

"What," she gasped, still recovering from her coffee incident. Ginny blushed.

"I think you heard me," she said quietly.

"I meant what were you thinking? Do you even know this guy!"

"Sort of. We went to school together, I guess."

"And...?"

"And what?"

"Well how was it?" Ginny stood and began pacing, nervously swirling her coffee.

"What is there to say? I mean, we were reading something, and then he just... kissed me."

Claudia looked let down. "Come on! What were you reading? Was he aggressive? Did you like it?"

Ginny blushed even more. "We kind of reenacted Rome and Juliet. Not really, he just cupped my chin... And, yeah. I did."

"Well," Claudia responded, getting excited and moving to the edge of her chair, "are you going to see him again?"

"I have to, aren't I? It's not like I'm going to quit painting in the middle of something."

"You know what I mean. Are you going to find anymore steamy love scenes and act those out?"

"It wasn't steamy!" Ginny moved her arms around so wildly she spilled coffee on her wrist. "They were completely innocent!"

"They..."

Ginny rubbed her forehead and set her cup on the ground. "Two. It's in the play, they kiss twice."

Claudia chuckled and sipped her drink once more. She decided to egg Ginny on.

"Is he very handsome?"

"Extremely! He's tall and blonde and strong. And his eyes are simply… incredible..." Ginny trailed off, talking to herself more than Claudia.

"Is he charming?"

"Heck no," Ginny said dreamily. "He's conceited and horrible and insulting. Spiteful and acidic and frigid. He hardly has any friends."

"Sounds like a very fine gentleman," Claudia said sarcastically. "What does he do for a living?"

"I'm not sure he does anything. He's incredibly rich, though."

"There's a plus."

Ginny sat back in her chair, unknowingly knocking over her drink and spilling it on the floor.

"He's got you hook, line, and sinker," Claudia remarked, cleaning up the coffee with her wand. "So do you love him or not?"

"Neither. Both. It's too soon to tell."

"From what I hear, you've already decided. I've got to go home; there are tons of things that have got to be done. I'll talk to you later." Claudia rose and took her wand from its resting place beside her on the ground. 

"Nnnn..." said Ginny, still lost in thought. Claudia apparated and Ginny was left sitting in the back room of the shop. She sat for a minute or so, and then decided to apparate home.

She hated to spend time pacing and thinking and brooding in her small living space, but there was nowhere else to go. As she gathered her wand, she looked forward to tomorrow, when she'd see Draco and paint. But she half-dreaded the awkwardness that was sure to follow. When she and Harry had their first kiss, they couldn't speak to each other for a week afterwards.

---

The afternoon crept by lazily. Ginny doodled for a bit, listened to the wireless, and fixed herself some brownies to get her mind off work. She sat in her cluttered studio eating her brownies, looking at the random sketches and paints strewn across the floor.

She wasn't an unorganized person; she just used a method others would recognize as 'utter chaos.' But she knew exactly where everything was, and if someone came in and put everything in a designated place, Ginny would have trouble finding things. She hadn't been in her studio in ages, only stopping in here and there to get a brush, or a certain paint when she was home. She hadn't tried painting anything else while she was working with Draco, and didn't expect to start something now. She just liked being in there, somewhere familiar where only she knew what was going on. It was comforting.

She bent down and picked up a half-finished painting off her floor. It was an abstract, one of her favorite styles, and it used a muddle of colors and was completely confusing and messy. Ginny took it into her kitchen and hung it on a wall. It wasn't well done, and wasn't even attractive, but she suddenly looked at it with new eyes. It reminded her of herself. Muddled, confusing, and half-finished with no idea what could be coming next.

---

Ginny woke up early the next day(early being nine o'clock) and went to her kitchen. She sipped on some coffee and looked at the package still sitting on her table. There was a little tear in the brown wrapping from where Ginny had detached the letter. She set her cup next to the box and tore the rest of the paper away. She lifted the lid and looked inside. A shirt, a pair of shoes, several mugs, a hairbrush, a picture frame (Ginny carefully avoided looking at the picture inside it, and set it face down on her table,) a jacket ("I wondered were that went...) A quill, an empty take-home cup from The Three Broomsticks, a toothbrush, scrap parchment? Ginny removed the last object in the box; a worn book. She snorted, this wasn't even her book. It was a collection of fairy tales Harry had laying about in his apartment, though he never said where he got it. Ginny loved it and read a story nearly every time she had been over. But hey, if Harry was willing to give it up, she was willing to keep it.

She dressed and stood in front of her mirror, brush and wand at the ready. The last few months when she had dated Harry, she hardly ever brushed her hair; her mum had said that if you really loved someone, it didn't matter to them what you looked like. Ever since she started working with Draco, she didn't do anything special to it. What was that suppose to mean? Ginny compromised with herself by braiding her long hair and then apparating to the manor, anticipating to what would hopefully be a completely un-awkward day.

She was ushered inside by an elf, as usual, and made her way to the library. It was completely empty; Draco was late. The thought made Ginny smile. Draco, Mr. Be-On-Time-Or-I'll-smite-you, was late. Ginny went to getting her paints ready.

Painting area ready. Model absent.

Where was he? Ginny shrugged off the question. He had probably just slept in. She picked up the book they had been reciting and sad in his chair, her thoughts drifting.

She flipped through pages, picking some random bookmarks to see what some of Draco's favorite parts were. She read some of his and some of her own, and when she glanced up, he was there. She closed the book and sat up straighter.

"Hi."

Draco walked over closer and Ginny rose rather clumsily from the chair and began arranging the books around the chair as they were positioned in the painting. Draco just stood there, silent. She stood and went to her canvas, not making eye contact with her model as she passed him. Draco, in turn, sunk down into the familiar pose.

Normally, Ginny would think aloud as she sketched or painted, but today, had her thoughts escaped through her lips, she would never be able to look Draco in the eye again. Not that she was sure she could now. 

However, Ginny found herself looking at him longer than needed and didn't paint as much as she should. When she did, they were slow and deliberate, as if she was trying to see how slow she could make each stroke last. The minutes crawled by but the hours seemed to speed, it was very odd. When it was noon, Ginny suggested that they grab a bite to eat and Draco rose stiffly.

"Fine," he answered, "but let's not stay here. Why don't we go somewhere else to eat?" Ginny smiled a tiny smile. She was going on a date, and no matter how he worded it, it was still a date. Two people going somewhere together to enjoy each other.

"OK, but you're buying."

The small cafe was quiet for it was that in-between time after the lunch crowd and before supper when very few ate out. The thin blonde waitress seated them by a window which looked out into the near deserted street a story below it.

Ginny took her seat self-consciously, horribly aware of the streaks of paint on her faded jeans and the bits of hair which were creeping out of the braid. Draco sat down like a king on his throne, his head tilted up, his back perfectly strait. His eyes, however, remained fixed on her own. Those stunning gray eyes alone were enough to make any girl look twice and here, she, Ginny Weasley, was finding herself incapable of tearing her own eyes away from those icy depths.

"Miss...?" The waitress was tapping the short quill on the pad of paper, obviously annoyed.

"Oh, I'm sorry..." Ginny replied, stumbling over the words, "What did you say?" Draco was smirking at her; she could sense it without looking.

"To drink, miss, wha' would ye lioke ter drink?"

"Coffee, please." After accomplishing what was her job to do, the waitress vanished through a door behind the bar opposite where Ginny sat.

"Erm," Ginny started, keeping her eyes on the table, "Nice weather, isn't it?"

He smirked again, she knew it.

"Fine weather," he replied.

The waitress brought back the drinks and set them in front of the appropriate people.

" 'Ow do ye take yer' coffee, miss?"

"Black."

"Like her soul," muttered Draco as the waitress turned. Ginny glanced up to his face and sipped her mug.

"Why do you always drink coffee?"

"I don't _always_ drink coffee."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do. You're addicted."

"Am not."

"You are too."

"Am not. I could stop drinking it whenever I wanted."

"Stop now."

"Fine. I will."

"Fine."

Ginny set her mug in front of her and raised her eyes to Draco's. As their food came, they chatted together about absolutely nothing. Mid-way through the meal, Ginny tried to find the main idea of their conversation, so she could tell Claudia, but when she thought about it, nothing came. As they finished up their desert, Ginny found that she was unwilling to go back to her work. Draco seemed ready to leave the public atmosphere, and Ginny quickly thought of something to keep him there.

"Why do you always wear black?"

"Can you see me wearing anything else?"

Ginny laughed as she thought of her plea with the purple pants.

"Don't you have anything else?"

"Haven't you seen my closet?"

Yes..."

"Was there anything other than black in it?"

"No..."

There you go."

"How do you stand it?"

"Stand what?"

"Not wearing color?"

Draco shrugged. "I just don't wear any."

"That didn't answer my question."

"So change your question to fit my answer."

He smirked again; Ginny scowled. They rose from the table and walked down the stairs and out the door and onto the sunny street. They weren't holding hands, they didn't have their arms around each other, they weren't even touching each other; but anyone with eyes could see that they were 'together.' Neither of them would've admitted it to anyone, but it didn't change the fact.

They continued walking and talking until they reached a Muggle business building with a clock on front. Draco glanced up and said, "I didn't realize what time it was."

Ginny grinned, "I guess time flies when you're having fun..."

Draco's reply was blank. "Sure. But I'm afraid that I have something I have to go to. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Ginny nodded. "Tomorrow."

They were standing about a foot apart, just standing and looking at each other. Ginny could hardly bear it.

_Go for it, Gin!_ part of her mind shouted yet something was holding her back. _Oh,what the h,_ Ginny thought, rising to her toes to let her lips gently make contact with Draco's.

He didn't pull away. Ginny knew she shouldn't be surprised with this; after all, he _did_ kiss her first. Yet she still found herself a bit stunned when she felt his arm wrap around her waist.

She wrapped her own arms around his neck and pulled him closer. When they finally broke apart, she rested her head on his chest and they both steadied their breathing. Ginny felt two warm lips pressing against her forehead and then she heard Draco say, "Tomorrow." The let go of each other and Draco turned and walked down the sidewalk, not looking back. He turned down an alley and then, he was gone.

--------------

Author's note: There ye are! Some fluff-tastic goodness! I promise the next update won't take NEAR as long as the last one! Reviews are welcome!


	11. Something Missed

Claudia raised her eyebrows. "No coffee? This guy must be something..."

"He is!" Ginny replied quickly, following her friend to the back room. She had dropped by to see how business was going, but the casual meeting had quickly progressed into an interrogation. "He is... completely indescribable," she ended clumsily, for she often found herself at a loss when trying to pick the right words to describe him. Somehow "arrogant, conceited, horribly rich, and extraordinarily handsome son from a family that my family and friends has hated for decades," just didn't sound right anymore.

All Claudia had to say was "What happened?" to get Ginny started on a detailed description of the day's events, with the absence of Draco's name.

"...And then I kissed him..." she ended with a smile. Claudia clapped giddily.

"How romantic!" she squealed, "So who _is_ he? This mystery lover of yours, I mean."

Ginny snorted. 'Mystery lover?' It was obvious that someone had been reading too many paperback romance novels.

"Do I know him?"

Ginny twirled her finger in hair that had long fallen out of her messy braid. "You may have heard of his family. They were talked about in the _Prophet_." They were. Right after Lucius was caught, the _Prophet_ had an incredibly huge article on the Malfoys. Draco wasn't mentioned much, though.

"So, who is he?"

"Draco. Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy?"

"Yes," Ginny squeaked. _This was it. Claudia had heard that Lucius was a Death Eater and now she's going to hate me forever. _

"I've never heard of them." Ginny sighed in relief.

"Does your Potter-boy know about him?" Ginny snorted again.

"He and Harry were sworn enemies at school, I doubt they could say one thing to each other before Harry would start shouting insults and Ron would try to deck him. If I ever tell them that I'm... you know, with Draco... Well, part of me would do it just to tick them off. And the other part would because Draco's simply incredible..."

Claudia rolled her eyes. "You're making this whole 'romance' thing sound pretty appealing."

"It's the most wonderful feeling in the world!"

"I might have to get me one of these boyfriends..." Boyfriend. She, Ginny, had a 'boyfriend?' Draco was somebody's 'boyfriend?' That was too childish. Too immature. Draco was a grown man of 24, far too old to be considered a 'boy.' And he wasn't a friend either, so why put those two words together?

"He's not my boyfriend..." Ginny murmured. 

"Then what is he?"

"I don't know. He's just... Draco, I guess."

"Just Draco you guess?"

"Yeah. Just Draco."

- -

She had been painting a particularly troublesome section of the bookcase all morning and was all too eager to get out and feel the fresh air against her face. Draco, being the gentleman, took her to a cafe, as he had been doing for some time, and got them a table. Rain hit the windows of the cafe loudly, cooling the horribly hot summer afternoon.

Ginny pressed her forehead against the window while drinking her tea. She was so tired of being inside. She wanted to feel the rain against her face, hear the wind rushing past her, and smell the wonderful smell of the outdoors. Nibbling on her sandwich, she sighed, sounding like a child who has been denied the toy she has been wanting for months.

"How much more do you plan on painting?" Draco asked, before sipping a spoonful of soup.

"I don't know," Ginny replied, pulling herself away from the glass. "I wanted to finish that bookcase, but I'm not too sure if that will happen or not from the progress I seem to be making right now."

The rest of the meal was finished in relative silence, broken only by the occasional idle comments.

"Ahem!" A particularly rude gentleman stood at their table and feigned a cough to attract their attention. The both turned to look at someone who was quite familiar to them both.

"Potter?"

"Harry?" Ginny and Draco had both addressed the dark-haired wizard before them at the same time.

Harry Potter stood in front of them, crossed-armed and fuming. Ginny paled a little. It wasn't as though she was frightened of Harry, it was just that she knew he had a short fuse and he seemed ready to blow up now.

"What are you two doing?" he asked, teeth pressed together tightly, Ginny was sure one would pop out.

"Eating?" Draco commented innocently.

"What are _you_ two doing?" As she said this, Ginny glanced behind Harry, seeing who she assumed was Marietta Edgecomb. She had masses of curly hair that overpowered her thin, sickly face. Her eyes were unattractively narrow and her cheeks sunken in. She looked over at Ginny and Draco with the utmost loathing. What Harry saw in her, Ginny could not see.

"That's not the point," he answered snappishly.

"Testy, are we?" Draco said coldly.

"Ginny, I thought you were just painting him."

"And I thought she was just working with you," she retaliated bitterly.

"Gin-.. That was a long time ago..."

"What are you even talking about? How can you saw that- Who do you- You have no idea!" Ginny rose to her feet to look Harry in the eye. "Do you know what that did to me after I found out? I was broken! I wasn't even the same anymore! I couldn't paint, I couldn't eat, I couldn't do…anything!" She was shouting now, but she didn't even realize it – nor did she care. People were starting to stare. Actually, everybody was staring. The cafe went completely silent as soon as Ginny had stood. "I guess it's a good thing you left me, Harry. Now I know what a shallow, cold-hearted pansy you are!" 

Draco had said nothing throughout the entire exchange. Ginny was grateful; he realized that she wanted to fight this battle on her own. Once Harry found his voice, he tried to come back.

"Me? Shallow and cold-hearted? I think you're talking about Malfoy here... I was never shallow or cold to you."

"No, you're right. I mean, you only went around my back and cheated on me with…with that sneak." Marrietta made a strange sound in her throat, but no one paid her much attention.

"I...I'm sorry, Gin. But you don't understand…" Harry forced out in a strangled tone.

"You're right. I don't understand. I don't even want to anymore. I hope you're happy with your secretary." Ginny sank back into her seat and rubbed her temples; she was starting to get a burning headache

"If you lay a hand on her, Malfoy..."

"Like...this?" Draco reached over and placed his hand on top of Ginny's head.

"You know I'm an Auror, now." Harry snarled

"What, and that's a threat?" Draco scoffed.

Harry growled and turned away. He gathered his things and his woman, and they exited the cafe.

A steady stream of muttered curses escaped from Ginny's mouth as Draco, after laying a few coins on their table, ushered her out of the cafe. 

"Stupid, ignorant, bastard," she gritted out, the rain doing nothing to cool her temper. She felt like throwing something. Something very sharp at a certain someone's head. Or maybe she could just revert back to medieval methods of torture. Some of them had been proven quite effective on even the most intelligent of wizards. Or maybe she could just sneak up behind him and ring his neck. That would be fun. And a great stress reliever.

"Ginny...?" Draco questioned, interrupting her thoughts.

"What?" Ginny snapped back, a little too loudly.

"...Nevermind."

Ginny stopped in the sidewalk and leaned her head foreword onto Draco's robes, arms hanging limply at her side.

"I'm sorry you had to see that… I know it was childish and immature," Ginny explained, her words rather muffled through Draco's clothes. "But it's just that he's so—"

"Shhhh," he cut her off. One of his arms held her, and the other stroked her hair. Comforted by this, Ginny went on.

"I mean, he's a lying arse. I hate him. I hate him so much."

"Mmhmm."

"You won't run away with your secretary, will you?"

"I don't have a secretary, Ginny."

"Good."

- -

Ginny knew there the family would be in uproar when they found out. She imagined the pile of letters that would be waiting for her at the apartment when she got back. One from her mom, going on about how disappointed she was in her daughter; one from Ron, telling her that she should know better; perhaps even one from Hermione. No doubt everyone knew by now. Harry had probably apparated straight to the Burrow, telling everyone there. How she hated the prat.

Four owls. Four owls making a mess of her kitchen. Four owls attacking her food, leaving surprise on her floor, and scratching up her counters. She detached all of her letters and sent the owls on their ways, smacking a few as she went. She cleaned up her kitchen and then sat in a comfortable chair in her living room. One was from her mum.

_Dearest Ginny...Hope you're well...blah blah blah... Harry's just informed... blah blah blah...Very disappointed...Horrible family... Horrible Father... Don't you remember the chamber incident... blah blah ... blah blah... love Mum_

Ginny tossed it into the fire she had made in the grate. Next letter:

_Dear Gin, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING! etc. etc... HOW THE- etc. etc... WHAT THE- etc... IM GONNA- etc... From Ron._

That letter followed the one from her mother and Ginny watched it turn to ash. Next letter:

_Dear Ginny, can't believe…Disappointed... How could you..._

Ginny didn't get halfway through the letter before she tossed Hermione's neatly written note away. Last letter:

_You have no idea what kind of person Malfoy is. Gin, I'm an Auror, and I've heard some stuff that isn't flattering about your "boyfriend." You know his father's in Azkaban? Well, whenever ol' Draco goes to 'visit' him, Lucius passes on instructions! Ex: Killing muggles, 'mudbloods' and especially old Death Eaters who denied Voldemort when he died. He's dangerous Gin! I only have you safety in mind. Love, Harry._

Ginny ripped his letter into little pieces before she tossed it into the fire. Just because Malfoy was a bastard to Harry and his friends didn't mean he was a murderer. Ginny thought she would tell Harry that. She got a quill and parchment and began to write. _Dear Harry..._

And so the letter continued. She actually felt much better getting her rants and frustration on paper; it made her feel more in control. The letter itself was a mess, not only physically, with its many ink splatters in her haste to write it, but also in content. The ideas jumped randomly, the tone violent and angry. But Ginny didn't mind. That was how she felt and if Harry didn't like it, then that was his problem.

She continued writing until she felt drained of any emotion. She sealed the letter with deep burgundy wax and her own seal, a simple "G.W" with an elegant flourish underneath.

Unfortunately, she didn't have an owl of her own and since Harry's had flown off long ago, she laid it on her kitchen counter and habitually reached for a coffee mug. Just as she had raised her wand, she stopped herself.

"I made a bet," she said. "Even though I didn't wager anything, I will prove him wrong, if it's the last thing I do," she added as she put the cup back into its proper place. Instead she reached for a bottle of water sitting in her refrigerator and said to herself, "I don't need coffee, I don't need caffeine, I made a promise and I'm keeping it, as well as proving him wrong."

- -

Ginny didn't paint for three days. She went to the manor, she had Draco sit, and she even dipped her brush in paint, but she never touched the canvas, no matter how close she came. She just looked through an artist's eyes, trying to imagine how a great master would see this or paint that. On the fourth day, she painted. A little. The green in a book wasn't quite right and it had been bothering her for weeks, although until then, she hadn't figured out what it was. She hadn't received anymore owls from anymore family members, but she was sure that they would come. Her family loathed the Malfoys and would be furious to discover their baby girls in touch with one, let alone a relationship. They cared about her far too much to let her date Draco. The owls would be swarming in any day now. Any day now, they'd be filling her kitchen.

But the expected letters _didn't_ come. True, Ginny would have found them extremely vexing, but at least the letters filled with words of anger and disappointment would show some kind of acknowledgement from her family. She hadn't gotten a single owl since the letters she had received after she had come back from that cafe. Not a single one.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Draco asked from his position on the chair. Ginny had just snapped at him for moving slightly to the left, throwing the shadows off.

"Nothing!" she replied, suppressing her annoyance at his question. "Just shut up and be still." Draco had been almost painfully formal since the cafe incident. He hadn't even done as much as touch her hand since the unfortunate meeting with Harry.

It bugged her, to say the least.

That afternoon, she was walking down Diagon Alley to relieve some tension. As she passed Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, she saw one of her brothers standing inside, organizing a shelf. Her earlier feelings stirred inside her and she stormed into the shop. The brother turned around as the door shut and a bell tinkled, but before he could greet his sister she cut him off. 

"Look, Fred. Or George. I don't know what you think you're doing, but it certainly isn't enough! What are you thinking! I mean, I'm dating Draco Malfoy; you and he were enemies at school! You know, Draco Malfoy! Obviously you don't like him any more now than you did at school! You are a horrible brother! Your baby sister is involved with a jerk that comes from a dark family, and you don't say anything? Not even an owl. Do you want me to get cursed into oblivion? Don't you care? It's not like I can make my own decisions anyway. Doesn't he have to get the a-ok stamp of approval! How can you let me do this?" Ginny stopped ranting, catching her breaths and a few nervous glances from the customers.

"Gin, its George. And Fred and I just decided that you can make your own decisions. You are in your twenties. And if you see something in this Malfoy guy, then he must not be that bad all the way down." George turned back and began organizing their latest products again. Ginny was dumbfounded.

"Well, good," she said. They remained silent and the other people in the store began to talk amongst themselves again. "So…when are you and um…Julie getting married?"

"Jenna. And we broke up."

"I'm sorry. Why?"

"Let's just say, she chose to do some things with someone else."

"Oh. Who?"

"Her boss."

"Hmm. Sounds familiar. So how'd you find out?"

"Well, she wasn't very smart..."

"And...?"

"She must have forgotten that I come home at seven."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "You mean...? At your house? And you came in?" 

"Yeah," George said gruffly, wanting to change the subject.

"I have to go... Getting late and all, I need to be home. Bye." Ginny left the shop and continued walking down the alley, shaking her head at George's misfortune.

Witches and wizards hurried past her as she ambled along, their arms full of bags from different shops. Ginny's mood had lightened a bit since talking to her brother. It seemed the twins always had a way with making her feel better, whether through means of practical jokes, or just their realistic encouragement. Ginny walked absentmindedly through the streets, her thoughts jumping spastically from topic to topic. First they lingered angrily on Harry, then moved to Draco, then jumped to random ideas which held no importance at all.

- -

It was mid-November, four months until the 'unveiling' at Draco's birthday. The canvas was completely covered in paint. Ginny thought that half the work in painting someone was looking, and so she did - at the canvas and the model, the books and the shelf, and her paints and brushes. Most of the time, Draco didn't need to be there. Usually we would sit with her, silently reading a book, or off somewhere else, taking care of a 'business' Ginny didn't know he had. One day, he was off somewhere and Ginny was left in the library alone. She had been staring at a corner of the canvas for what felt like hours and her eyes burned. Not to mention, she pounding headache she was beginning to get behind her eyes. She decided to take a break and began searching the shelves for a book. When she found it, she relaxed on a sofa and flipped it open. She had read a few scenes from Romeo and Juliet when she glanced up to see him there.

"I'm glad I'm not paying you by the hour," he said as he walked closer to her.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had something else to do."

"I did. I was just stopping by to see how things were coming."

"Well as you can see," Ginny said, closing the book, "I am suffering from what some call 'Artist's Block.' The painting is turning out horrible. I hate it. I just can't get it right. I'm sorry, but it looks like you will have to get another artist, some ancestor of Leonardo DaVinci who has ten times my talent, seeing as this is crap." She went on ranting for some time. It felt good to vent her frustration. She may have been stretching the truth a bit, as the painting was not horrible, not even half-bad, on her standards, but it was obviously lacking something. Something important. Something vital to the greatness of the art.

Draco, meanwhile, had wandered to the canvas and was looking at it, expressionlessly.

"Looks fine to me," he said after a few more minutes of looking at it. "DaVinci could have done better, but as he is dead, this will have to do."

Ginny rolled her eyes and went to her painting. There was no flashing sign, no neon lights, no blinking arrow, and no clear indication signaling that something was wrong about the painting. But something was. True, it was not yet done yet; Ginny still needed to add some detail to Draco's clothes and the background needed to have a few more highlights, but there were something that you could just sense was wrong, despite its being unfinished.

"Not bad," Draco said quietly, apparently muttering to himself.

"Its crap," was Ginny's brash response.

"If you think that, I'm not even going to even try to make you believe differently. Weasleys are always so stubborn."

Ginny scowled.

"But you are different from the rest of your family. In place of their stupidity-" Ginny began to walk away but was stopped by a strong hand on her arm, holding her where she was "-you have a horribly short temper, are obsessive when it comes to anything relating to art, officious, self-centered, and you must have everything your way-"

Ginny tried to jerk away from the hand holding her, but Draco did not let go.

"If you have finished insulting me," Ginny spat, "I would like to leave."

"Tut tut. It is only polite to let one finish another's sentences."

"Do I look like someone who truly cares about manners!"

"No, you don't," Draco said, pulling Ginny closer. Though she was still fuming, she felt her heart skip a beat. "Which is why you are where you are."

"What?" Ginny asked; being close to him seemed to make mud out of any clear thoughts she had.

"And why I enjoy your company."

This time, he didn't wait for a response. He leaned down and kissed her. 

----------------------------------------------

Authors note: I hope you all like it! This was a fun chapter for me to write, so I hope you all had as much fun reading it! I'd like to take some time to thank my reviewers. I know I'm not always the quickest updater on the web, yet you are still sticking with me. It really means a lot to me::hugs to all reviewers:

AAAND, I'll soon be starting another fanfic, as I'm getting close to finishing this one (there is a lot more written than what is on here. I have to go back through and review it before I post it. ). I'm not going to say a lot about it, as I want it to be a surprise, but I can say it is going to be a long, angsty, songfic thing! Yay angsty songfics!

Also, if you want me to post faster, then review! I usually wait until I have a few reviews on the latest chapter before posting a new one…

GoldenFawkes: Thanks for all your reviews! I'm so glad you like it! I do agree; Ginny has something A LOT better than Harry now. XD Thanks for the fav!

AnitaBlakeBuffyFan: Thanks for recognizing that bit. And she can't finish the painting yet! I mean, she has to have a reason to go to Draco's house daily!

sunflowerchild: I'm sorry I'm making you hate him… ButI'm glad you like the story… even if Harry is a complete git…

Alexandria J. Malfoy: I hope there will NEVER be a delay as long as that one between 9 and 10. I know that was just sheer torture on you guys. Thanks for sticking with me!

I KNOW I haven't responded to everyone who reviewed. These are just a few. If you review regularly (hinthintnudgenudge) I will answer your reviews. Or if you ask me questions… or if you just say something that might pop out at me when I read the reviews… Those whose reviews I didn't answer, please don't be angry with me! I love you all more than you could imagine::massiveglomp: Reviews really make my day!

So, read and review! Please!


	12. A Little Note

Authors note:

It has been a while, has it not? I would just like to say a HUGE thanks to the people who kept with this story as it sat here rotting like some dead animal. That's truly amazing. I'm glad there are still people who happen across this little piece of fanfiction every now and then. What's more, you all like it!

AND as a reward…. And because I think it's time this story had a conclusion, I will be working my absolute hardest to get you as many chapters as I can as fast as possible. I'm hoping to at the very least have one up a month.

Thank you all so much for reading this. I hope I won't fail you all again.

- SD


	13. A Different Twist

Ginny felt her entire body go limp. It had been so long since he had last kissed her and she had, quite frankly, forgotten what it was like. But before she had a chance to go about remembering, he pulled away and looked at her. Looked at her with those stunning gray eyes that seemed like endless skies of stormy clouds before a mid-afternoon storm.

Then it hit her. The eyes. That was what was wrong. She hastily glanced at the painting and went to it, staring at it as if in a trance. The eyes on the painting were dull, flat, lifeless. The eyes of a cold, heartless Draco she had known in school.

"Draco, get over here. Now." she ordered, picking up her palette.

"I told you that you were obsessed with art."

"Its not that," she explained as she dabbed her paints together and started mixing them on a palette, "I've just found what this painting needs."

"It needs something?" Draco asked as he lowered himself on to the seat he had become oh so familiar with.

"Yes," Ginny replied, "now shut up so I can paint your eyes."

"Again?"

"Yes! Quiet!"

Ginny mixed. She painted, wiped it off, painted again, and wipe it off. By the time his birthday rolls around, his eyes would be three inches tick with paint. Everytime Ginny had thought she found the right color, it looked flat and lifeless on the canvas. Either his eyes were to grey or too blue. They were too angry or too vacant. Ginny thought the best photographer couldn't capture his eyes, seeing how often they seemed to change.

Ginny scowled. She had been in a particularly bad mood lately, being unable to go any further on the painting with the eyes unfinished. The paintbrush sat motionless on the palette full of grays and blues. Sun streamed in through the window. It looked like a beautiful day; bright blue sky, completely cloudless, a crisp breeze blowing the brightly colored leaves across the lawn.

Ginny sighed and sank into a chair on the opposite wall from her canvas. Even from this distance, she could tell the eyes were off. They just didn't gleam like Draco's eyes did. Her head fell into her hands. She heard Draco get up from his chair and his shoes softly clicking on the marble floor but did not raise her eyes.

"Do you know what day it is? Twenty-something?"

"Sounds right," Ginny replied through her hands.

"So there's a little while until New Years, right?"

"...Right..."

"Do you have plans for New Years?"

"That depends," she said, lifting her head enough so her eyes peeked through her fingers. "Why?"

"Well.. I have a pretty good reputation with the ministry, being a.. a patron if you will. And I get special privileges without actually working for them. And there is a Masquerade Ball that I would like to have a certain young lady to accompany me too."

Ginny raised her head and titled it back on her palm, looking up to his eyes for a millisecond before glancing up to his eyebrows. She was slowly coming to the realization that if she lingered on his eyes for too long, she would not be able to make intelligible sentences.

"And who is this fortunate young lady?"

"Well," Draco smirked as he slid down onto the armrest, "I thought about asking my secretary..."

Ginny pushed him off the chair. Not expecting this, he crashed to the floor before his cat-like reflexes to stop it.

"I said I thought about it!" He retorted angrily as he rose to his knees beside the chair.

Ginny allowed herself a small grin. She turned to face him and asked him, "And what changed your mind?"

"You see, there's this artist who has been forced to put up with me for the past few months and I thought it would be nice to give her a break of sorts."

"Well, if you put it that way," Ginny said smiling, "the artist has no choice but to accept."

Instead of painting the next day, they took a field trip to London. They walked into Madame Malkan's and were greeted by an elderly witch in mauve who wouldn't leave them alone until they insisted for the fifth time that they were just looking thank you and didn't need any help. They waltzed over to the costume robes section and Ginny began rifling through the racks and racks of costume robes. Draco eyed a leopard-print robe warily, as if it was going to jump at him and force itself on to his body.

"Should I even wear a robe," he asked Ginny.

"As opposed to going nude? Well, I expect no one would recognize you." He laughed.

"I meant maybe just wear, pants or something."

"Sure. Men's robes they just look like dresses, anyway. I've never really fancied a man in robes..." Draco immediately turned from the rows of robes to help Ginny sort through mounds and mounds of women's costumes.

Rows of bright dresses loomed before them. Flashes of sparkling gold and silver as well as glimpses of calming blues and greens shimmered on the racks. Ginny gently went through the highly expensive outfits. None of them were really speaking to her. Yes, they were all beautiful but none screamed 'wear me.'

"How formal is this little event?" Ginny asked, looking at a very plain but comfortable looking brown dress.

"If you are planning on wearing that," Draco said, raising an eyebrow to the simple dress, "I suggest you reconsider. They might throw you out thinking you merely lived on the street around the corner." Ginny scowled but none-the-less, pushed the dress back onto the rack. "This one would fit in," he continued, holding up a bright red dress made of silk.

"It would clash with my hair," Ginny said plainly.

"Suit yourself. What about this one?"

"No, thank you," Ginny said without looking at it. Her eyes were glued on a black dress in front of her. It hung magnificently on a mannequin in the corner of the room, almost hidden behind the line of other dresses. It was black, trimmed in silver, with a light gray underskirt. The dress itself was relatively simple in design but still had that air of royalty to it. The skirt was quite a bit bigger than what Ginny would have found ideal, but it would work.

"Black," he said. "I like it." He had followed her to where she stood staring blankly at the dress in the window.

And with that, it was purchased. Draco insisted on paying for it, but Ginny stubbornly refused. After all, she was a well known painter and she had more than enough money. Just because she didn't flaunt it didn't mean she didn't have it.

"Now I need a mask," she said, as they walked down busy Diagon Alley, clutching the large bag that was Ginny's dress, "and you need a costume, too." She led the way to a bright orange store, known for its elaborate costuming supplies.

Feathered, beaded, sparkled, charmed to mirror another's face... There were no masks that were simple, face-hiding masks. Ginny was looking at a mask that resembled a butterfly, but the wings fluttered randomly, when she heard someone from behind. She spun around and saw him. Draco was wearing a red suit, styled like that of the nineteenth century. He wore a half-mask that looked like a skull and had a short cape over one shoulder.

"Well?..."

"It gives me the creeps," Ginny said. "Get another one."

Draco scoffed in mock disbelief. "Do I not get brownie points for branching out of my usual box? My usual all black box?"

"Yes, good on you. Ten points. Now go get something else."

She turned back to the rows and rows of masks that lined the wall. She was thinking of the possibilities that maybe face paint would be easier when she heard her named being called from behind her.

"Is this more suitable?"

It was black, with a white undershirt. His black pants seemed to melt into his black boots and his short coat was very becoming. He had a long black cape and a plain black mask that covered the top half of his face. Ginny was nearly speechless.

"Buy it," she said, "and I'll be right there. I've found the mask I want." She picked up a plain black mask, nearly identical to Draco's except a little more feminine, and followed him to the cashier.

Ginny struggled to keep her massive dress from touching the ground, but somehow every time she got a good grip on it, some fold would slip down and try to bring the rest of the beg with it. Draco walked  
next to her for a while, watching her struggle, and then reached over to take the bag.

"I can, oof... manage," Ginny grunted as she almost dropped her mask in attempt to keep her dress neat.

"If you insist," Draco said and his hand fell back at his side.

"Wait," Ginny said quickly, "if you really want to help me, this dress is really big and it'd be nice of you... I mean, the only gentlemanly thing would be to take it..."

Draco grinned and took the dress and swung it easily over his shoulder where it didn't get dirty and didn't encumber him in the slightest. Ginny frowned.

"Where're we headed to, anyway," she asked as she swung her bag around.

"I don't know, Leaky Cauldron maybe?"

"Sure."

They ate a very pleasurable lunch/early dinner and headed their separate ways. Draco to his manor and Ginny to her apartment... only to drop her mask on the floor and lay her dress messily on her bed and apparated back to Diagon Alley to inform Claudia who then closed the art store (shooing three potential customers out) and insisted on every detail of everything Ginny had done over the past few weeks. Ginny didn't give them, much to Caudia's disappointment. She didn't want to live in a fishbowl, even if the only person watching was her friend.

* * *

Author's note:

I know. It's not really that exciting. It might take me a bit to get back into the groove of things and such, so I'm sorry if the next couple chapters are a bit rocky. At least it's forward movement in the plot, right?

Thanks, as always, to all the reviewers. If not for you all, this story would have remained unfinished until the end of time. Happy reviewing!

Next chapter: Who knows. Not me! I'll try to slide some cute fluff in though since this one didn't really have a lot.


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